The Smallville Ghost
by IolantheAlias
Summary: Chloe is possessed again by a ghost. But Clark's unique abilities, along with Chloe's savvy, may lead to a different outcome than one might expect.
1. Advent of a Ghost

**The Smallville Ghost**

**Chronology: mid to late season six, although some canon chronology is mixed up for story reasons**

**Note: obviously influenced by the episodes "Spell", "Transference," and "Spirit," but also by a book by Gillian Bradshaw entitled "The Wrong Reflection". Don't miss it.**

**Disclaimers: the usual. **

Clark looked over at Chloe, sitting on the couch in his barn loft. The setting sun streamed in through the large window. Her feet were in the sunbeam; the light gave a golden tone to her bare feet. Her shoes, kicked off an hour ago, lay sprawled on the floor a few feet away, leaning drunkenly.

Chloe slumped, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open, giving just a hint of a snore. She'd come over to talk with Clark – nothing special, just getting together as friends, although partly to check on him since she hadn't heard from him since he'd gotten the news of Lana's engagement. They'd talked a long time, Clark letting out some of his anger and frustration. Finally he'd worn down, and had gone to the house to get some coffee. He had gone at regular human speed, wanting to give Chloe a little break from his angst.

When he came back, Chloe was drowsing on the couch. Clark felt a little guilty – he'd been talking so much about himself he hadn't recognized that Chloe was very tired. _You know she works too many late nights,_ he chided himself. Caffeine could only keep a human awake for so long, and obviously Chloe had reached her limit.

Clark set the coffeepot down quietly on the desk, and sat himself down in a chair opposite Chloe. He studied her quietly, giving a small smile when she squirmed a little bit in her sleep, adjusting her position. Chloe looked tired too; there were dark circles under her eyes, and she seemed thinner than normal. Clark knew that she had to get back to Metropolis tonight; right then and there he resolved he would speed her back later so that she could get a nap now. He'd worry about her car later on. Maybe he could drive it back during the night?

She moved a little bit again; Clark, prompted by that same obscure feeling of guilt, slipped into super-speed. Carefully he picked her up, then laid her down so that she rested horizontally on the couch and could stretch out. Hopefully the speed would keep her from waking when he changed her position. Chloe gave another little sound, then snuggled into the side of the couch and relaxed.

Clark sat back in his chair, looked at Chloe, stared out the window at the setting sun. He'd seen many a sunset with Lana from this same vantage point. As ever, the thought of Lana sent a pang through him. _How could she agree to marry Lex?_ It was an old familiar thought by now; he'd only asked himself that about a million times in the past two weeks.

He'd spent the last two hours ranting about this to Chloe. Now, strangely enough, Clark felt more peaceful. Getting it all off his chest had helped him gain some perspective.

Chloe figured that Lana had fallen into the Luthor pit and, like herself in a similar situation, didn't know how to get out.

"She probably really does love Lex", Chloe had said judiciously. "I think she loves you more, but she is a loving person. And there's the baby to think of. And Lex hasn't betrayed her yet, at least that she knows of."

Then Clark had offered to get some coffee, and Chloe had agreed, no, _demanded_ it, with the all the fervor of a caffeine junkie needing her next fix. And then, when Clark returned from the house, Chloe was sleeping.

Clark listened to her steady breathing, relaxed in his own chair. It was a rare slow time on the farm, with most of the beef cattle recently gone to market and the crops in. He didn't have too much to do on the farm right now. Actually, the remaining work would probably keep three farmhands busy, but super-speed allowed him to get the work done and have time for other things, like meetings with friends.

His own eyelids quivered. He hadn't been sleeping well lately, either, constantly brooding about Lana and wondering what pressure was used to coerce her, and what he could do about it. Talking with Chloe today had helped him put it into perspective a little bit; he felt a little easier. Drowsiness stole over him. Clark welcomed it. He relaxed and slipped into slumber.

Noise from Chloe awakened him. She was stretching on the couch. Clark opened his eyes, smiled at her. She sat up slowly, almost falling over. Her hands reached up to feel her face, ran through her hair. Then she looked down at herself, and ran a hand over her stomach. Shelby sat up too, sniffed her, then got down and moved away. His ears flattened to his head, and his neck fur bristled. Clark raised an eyebrow in surprise – this wasn't like Shelby. Shelby liked Chloe; she was always giving him treats.

She still hadn't looked back at Clark. He sat still in his chair, watching her. Chloe stood up. Clark frowned. She looked wobbly. Was there something wrong with her? She definitely seemed unsteady on her feet. She took one step; it was exaggerated and slow. Clark could see her look down at her feet, then look around. When she caught sight of her shoes, she gave a small "ah" of satisfaction, and reached for them.

Chloe almost fell over, misjudging the distance to grasp her shoes. Clark straightened up and said, "Are you OK?"

She jumped at least three inches. Obviously his presence startled her. Clark caught a glimpse of the expression on her face before she turned away from him. It was fear.

"I'm fine", she said dismissively. Chloe reached for her shoes again, and again misjudged the distance.

"Are you sure?" Clark persisted. He was getting more worried about her – she just didn't look right. Were all the late nights and sleep deprivation catching up to her? And why was that fearful look on her face?

"I told you, I'm fine!" she said harshly. Clark cocked a metaphorical ear. Chloe definitely didn't sound like herself.

_Not like herself…_Clark had a sudden bad thought. He was halfway in a dream state himself, not yet fully awake from his nap. And before he'd gone to sleep, he and Chloe had been talking about meteor powers. He remembered some painful moments from his past….He wouldn't have done it if he had been fully awake. But it seemed, in his half-asleep state, to be the right thing to say.

"Who am I?" he asked Chloe. He looked back in Shelby in surprise for a moment as Shelby growled. Clark waited for her to joke back at him, or say his name, or call him one of her pet names, like the Man of Steel, or the Intergalactic Traveler.

Instead, a worm of doubt coiled in him as she looked away, pretending that she hadn't heard the question. Clark got up, put a hand on her arm. "Who am I?" he asked again. He stood so that he was facing her.

"You're, ah, you're, well, you're _you_!" Chloe replied, still not looking him in the eyes. It was weird. Her entire attitude and posture had changed. Clark still had a bit of dream haze in his mind. He wanted to be sure.

He asked her. "Who are you?" Chloe continued to avoid his gaze. Clark felt a tinge of worry. This wasn't right. Casting aside good manners, he invaded her personal space with a vengeance. He put one hand under her chin, and tilted her head up.

"Who are you?" he asked again. He wanted to hear her snark at him, tell him to put his hand down, he was hurting her neck. Then Clark looked into her eyes and knew. The question needed to be asked, because the person he saw staring out of Chloe's eyes was _not _Chloe Sullivan.

"Tell me who you are!" Clark demanded roughly, taking his hand from Chloe's chin and holding both her arms. She grimaced at his grip and abashedly, he loosened it a little bit. He'd grabbed her too hard in his nervousness; that was going to leave bruises.

Suddenly, her eyes changed. It was like a curtain being pulled up. Shelby moved closer; his hackles went down and he stopped growling. Chloe's posture changed subtly.

"Clark, why are you grabbing me?" Chloe asked. It _was _Chloe now, he could tell. "Not that I really mind it, but why are you keeping me prisoner out of the blue like this? Was the request for coffee that offensive?"

Clark let her go, dropped his arms to his sides. "Chloe, you're not going to believe this…"

"I've given up on incredulity in Smallville now. I believe whatever people tell me. If it's weird, I believe it." She gave him a tiny grin.

"I think you were possessed."

Despite her protestations, Chloe had one tiny expression of disbelief. Then exasperation crossed her face. "Not again!" She stamped her foot. "First it was Dawn Stiles at the prom, then that murdered girl with the kryptonite bracelet…"

"Yeah, what is it about you and ghosts?" Clark asked, interestedly.

"Not just ghosts, mind-altering stuff in general. For someone who doesn't drink or do drugs, I get a lot of crap that way." Chloe gave a half-exasperated smile. "My memory gets wiped out from Mr. Persuasive in the forest that time, and then the next time it's a Kryptonian parasite making me change into Daredevil Girl – and I don't remember that either. It's taking blackouts to a whole new level."

"And don't forget when you were possessed by the evil witch."

"Who had the uncomfortable taste in clothing." Chloe grimaced.

Clark smiled. "Oh, I don't know. I kind of liked the way you looked then. That black leather…"

"Clark!" At first there was indignation; then Chloe stopped for a moment. Then she said, interestedly, "Really?"

Clark shuffled his feet, looked away. "Um…yeah." Another moment of silence. He looked back at Chloe. Clark had told her in the past that she really didn't know how much she meant to him. Was this a time to pursue that topic? Clark could actually see her choosing to drop this subject and go back to the (admittedly more urgent) weird events that just happened.

"Clark, tell me what happened here!" she demanded.

"There's not much to tell, Chloe. I brought back the coffee and you were sleeping on the couch." He deliberately didn't tell her about moving her to a more comfortable position. "I took a little nap too, and then you woke me when you got up. Except Shelby was growling, and you were stumbling, and you just looked…different, so I asked you who I was. And you didn't know." Clark's voice turned more serious. "Then I looked into your eyes….and it wasn't you."

Chloe sat silent for just a moment, then rallied. "I guess that old "eyes being the window to the soul" thing is true."

"Shelby knew right away", Clark offered. "I don't know how he does that. When I was possessed by that Zoner, he knew it too."

"God, Clark, what is it with us and being possessed? Or mind-controlled?" Chloe ranted. "Does this only happen to us? Is it because we live in Smallville?"

Clark ignored her rhetorical questions. "What I'm more worried about is, why did it happen, who was it, is it going to happen again?" He sat down, a worried expression on his face. "Why you?"

Chloe looked worried too. Clark could tell that this was pushing some of her buttons again. "Maybe there really _is_ something wrong with me", she said in a low voice. "I mean, that other ghost possessed me so easily and I didn't know what I did while she was in my body."

"Do you remember anything about this episode?" Clark asked her.

She sat down on the couch. "No. The last thing I remember was sitting on the couch waiting for you to bring the coffee. I felt tired, and I remember my eyes closing. Then the next thing I knew, you had the grip of doom on my arms."

Clark cast a quick glance at her arms. He could see the bruising starting already. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"That's OK, Clark. You probably saved me from a worse fate." Chloe shivered.

"So what can we do?" he asked Chloe.

"I really don't know", she replied. "Call in the Ghostbusters or something?"

"Very funny", Clark said sourly. "No, really, Chloe, we do need to find out more. If you're at risk –"

"How do we find out more?" she demanded.

Clark sat back, sighing. "I have no idea."

"Well, I have one", Chloe said.

"What?"

"It happened while I was sleeping on your couch in your loft in your barn. So maybe if I take another nap…" Chloe winked at him.


	2. The Ghost Returns

"It happened while I was sleeping on your couch in your loft in your barn. So maybe if I take another nap…" Chloe winked at him.

"You just didn't like me waking you up", Clark teased her.

"Well, that was a nice nap", Chloe retorted. Then her voice turned serious. "If I do this, I have to ask you to run me back to Metropolis, because I won't have time to drive."

"No problem, Chloe", Clark assured her. "Assuming that nothing bad happens." Then he wished he hadn't said that last when Chloe shot him a look somewhere between angry and terrified.

"That last girl just wanted justice done. She didn't want to hurt me", Chloe said, obviously trying to encourage herself.

"It ended up that you were in danger, though", Clark said.

"But she got me out of it", Chloe riposted. "And, Clark, what alternative do we have? It's better to face it now. I don't like it, but you let whoever it is keep me for a little bit, till we can find out more."

"I don't know, Chloe", Clark said, concern on his features. "Keep you?" He definitely didn't like that idea. "Whoever it is, they're going to be on a very short leash…" he trailed off as he got an idea.

"What is it, Clark?" Chloe asked him. She knew him well enough to know something was on his mind.

"You remember that time when Oliver's school friends were all being killed and it turned out to be the astral body of a revengeful brain-damaged classmate doing the deeds?" Clark thought about what he'd just said. "I can't believe I said that and I was serious."

"That's still just about the weirdest thing I've come across, but yes", Chloe replied. "Truly Smallvillian, as if we needed any reminders."

"I forget if I told you this—" Clark said.

"You did, but go on anyway."

"—but what saved Oliver at the last minute was that he had this special arrow. It was an electromagnetic pulse arrow."

"And when it went off, the EMP destroyed the astral projection, proving that it was some sort of electromagnetic phenomenon." Chloe smiled, seeing where Clark was going with this.

"And, strangely enough, I just happen to have a couple of those EMP arrows handy." Clark rummaged in a box, pulling out some blankets, then a silver case. He opened the case, revealing two lethal-looking arrows with miniaturized, green-colored hardware attached.

"Wow! How'd you get these?" Chloe put out her hand to touch the arrows, thought better of it, pulled away.

"I asked Oliver", Clark said matter-of-factly. "I knew that something like this would come in handy one of these days, and whaddya know, it has."

"Why, Clark, I'm proud of you!" Chloe said, sweetly. "You're not just depending on your abilities anymore. In fact, you're actually thinking ahead."

"Hey, hey, no ragging on me or it's off!" Clark gave her a mock glare. He knew that his biggest fault was indeed jumping into things before giving thought. He'd gotten into trouble a few times that way. Fortunately, so far, he'd managed to get out, either by himself or with help from his friends.

Clark put the arrows back into their case, laid the case on the side table, and covered it with a blanket. The side table also contained a rod of polished steel; Clark had been machining some parts for the tractor, accidentally brought a piece up here, and hadn't gotten around yet to taking it back downstairs to the lathe.

"So your plan…" Chloe prompted.

"You go to sleep again. I'll sit here in the chair and pretend to be asleep, but I'll be watching you." Clark gave a little embarrassed cough. "By the way, is it OK if I _watch _you?"

Chloe looked confused for a moment, then understood. "With the X-ray vision?"

"I was thinking multiple spectra, not just the X-ray vision." He shuffled his feet.

"Sure, Clark." Chloe smiled to take away any embarrassment. She knew that Clark had a phobia about using his powers to invade her privacy. She had a sudden curiosity about his vision. "Don't you see multiple spectra all the time anyway?"

Clark stammered. "Well, no, really. Usually I limit my vision to the human visual spectrum, maybe just a little above and below that. Otherwise I keep seeing stuff that other people can't, and sometimes I'd talk about it, and that would make people give me odd looks—"

"And blow your cover. I get it." Chloe reached out to him, touched his hand. "You watch me with all the wavelengths you can. I'll count myself lucky."

Clark squeezed her hand just a bit. "Well, assuming that's OK, I'll _watch_ you. When—"

"Or if."

"—or if, whoever it is comes back, I'll grab them---"

"A little easier on the grabbing part, please, Clark. It's still _my_ body."

"—I'll take hold of them _carefully_, and ask questions. If I don't get answers, or I don't like the answers, the EMP arrow will be detonated, and you'll be back to yourself."

"Hopefully. We don't know if the EMP will work with the astral projection, or ghost, or whatever, is in a body." Chloe scowled.

Clark had a sudden bad thought that maybe it wouldn't work. "It'll work, Chloe", he said, trying to project confidence. "I'll only have to threaten them, anyway." He hoped.

"You know, Clark, I thought that frequency and wavelength were pretty important in electromagnetic phenomena", Chloe said pensively.

"They are."

"And do we know which frequency or wavelength Mr. Astral Body is at?" she demanded.

Clark sat, considering this. "We don't." It left a sour taste in his mouth. "I think Ollie's arrow just sent out a big blast on a wide spectrum."

"Kind of overkill. It's like the nuclear bomb of the astral projection world." Chloe frowned.

"That's why I'll be looking on multiple spectra." Clark tried to put confidence in his voice. He wasn't very good at that yet. "We'll lure the ghost in. If it doesn't happen again tonight, I'll take you back to Metropolis."

Chloe swallowed. "What if it doesn't happen tonight? What if it happens while I'm at work?"

Clark wasn't very happy about that either. "I don't know, Chloe", he said softly. "Let's just try tonight, and take it one day at a time, OK?"

Gradually she calmed down. "OK", she said. "Let's go ahead with Operation Catch-A-Ghost. Who you gonna call – Clarkbusters!" Clark loved that about Chloe, that she could snark even when she was frightened.

"Well, the good thing is that it doesn't require any exertion on your part", Clark said. "All you have to do is lie there quietly and try to sleep."

"Like I will now."

Ignoring Chloe's negative comment, Clark said, "And I'll sit here quietly and just watch." He gave her an encouraging smile. "Ready? I'll even tuck you in."

Chloe sighed, relaxed, and said, "How can I refuse an offer like that?" She climbed on the couch, lay down. "Keep a close eye, Clark, will you?" she asked in a plaintive tone.

"Always, Chloe", he said seriously. Then he smiled as he put a light blanket over her. "You can count on me."

"I know", she said as Clark sat down again in his chair, and adjusted himself to a comfortable position. "I trust you." Then Chloe deliberately closed her eyes. Clark could see her doing meditation breathing – she would breathe in for a count of eight, hold it, breathe out. Despite her agitation, as time passed, she actually did become drowsy.

Clark sat quietly in his chair, eyes mostly closed. His long lashes covered the slit openings of his eyelids. He ran through the mental process that adjusted his vision. It had been so weird when he first got X-ray vision – seeing things a whole new way. Even that hadn't caused as much consternation as when he'd gotten his heat vision. Of course, the X-ray vision could be used anonymously; it was rather hard to cover up things bursting into flame in his vicinity.

Since those days, he'd spent a lot of time learning how to control these abilities. They'd come in handy more times than he could count. He'd used the X-ray and heat vision extensively; he hadn't explored all the other capabilities of his sight as much as those two.

Clark started performing the indescribable mental adjustment that brought his X-ray vision online. Then, deliberately, he slowed down and...stretched, somehow, the process, so that he saw not only visual light, not only X-rays, but all the wavelengths in between. Suddenly the barn looked a whole lot different. Colors he hadn't seen before leapt out at him; looking at the wood beams, he got a confusing montage of both surface and interior structure.

He hadn't practiced this much; the sight wavered as he momentarily lost control of the ability. _Got to start using this more often_, Clark thought. It was so confusing – it certainly was easier to restrict his vision to just one part of the spectrum. He "grasped" the ability, fixed it down; he knew he would be able to repeat this method of seeing and it would come easier the next time. The tough part would be learning to interpret it and that would only come with practice.

He didn't look at Chloe; frankly, seeing her this way right now might upset his concentration. Clark could tell from her breathing that she had dropped into sleep.

_OK, got that part. Now for the infrared and below. _Keeping the visual, ultraviolet, and higher wavelength vision "fixed", he went through the mental process of summoning heat vision. It was hard to do, kind of like juggling while riding a bicycle. What made it harder was that he really didn't want to _use_ the heat vision, he only wanted to see in that part of the spectrum. Clark did the same, but slightly different, mental adjustment; again…stretched…now he was seeing in the infrared and further down the EM spectrum. His vision began to fill with haze; he realized he'd gone past microwaves and was seeing radio waves.

The sheer amount of information momentarily overwhelmed him and he lost control; suddenly he saw only in the human visual spectrum again. Clark spared a minute to wonder if a Kryptonian on Krypton would see as a human on Earth did; could Clark see so much only because he was a Kryptonian here on Earth, with a yellow sun? Fragments of information he'd gotten from the Fortress of Solitude suggested that was the case. _Out of my natural habitat._ As usual, the thought came with a tinge of bitterness.

Sighing, Clark crossed his feet, then uncrossed them, realizing he was supposed to be still. He started the whole "Expand-o-vision" process again, then mentally kicked himself. _I don't need to start at the visual spectrum and go up and then go down; I can just start at one end and work my way either up or down. _That would be better, anyway; it would be easier to make the adjustment once and extend it, rather than having to hold half of it in his head while working on the other half.

This time he chose to start at the gamma ray level; focusing on the floor, he started there and worked his way down the spectrum till he saw the haze of radio waves. The viewpoint was staggering. If Chloe asked him to describe it, he didn't think he could. There were no words for some of the colors he saw. Clark "fixed" the process and spent some time just looking, learning to interpret what he was seeing. He'd used each frequency for vision in the past, after doing some research on X-rays and heat. But he'd never before tried to see using every wavelength at once. _It's harder to do than I thought. _

Chloe tossed in her sleep; his attention drawn, Clark looked at her. The confusing imagery that was her body distracted him and he lost control. Suddenly he saw her just as regular Chloe wrapped in a red blanket.

_OK, let's try this again. _This time he started at the low frequency end of the spectrum. He moved up a little from the radio and TV waves, up into the infrared. Chloe came into focus as he moved higher up the spectrum, seeing her body give off heat. He was human enough that he interpreted these as deeper-than-deep reds and oranges. Then into the visual spectrum; the red of the blanket overlay the orange-without-a-name of the infrared spectrum.

Slowly Clark moved up and up, seeing the purples of the ultraviolet end of the spectrum. He relaxed a little as he moved into the X-ray area; this was very familiar to him. What wasn't familiar was all the other colors overlaying the X-ray view; he mentally juggled them all.

Clark gained control, then actually _saw_ Chloe. She was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. The intricacies of her body were bare to him, but more interesting was the _aura_ that permeated her and extended about a millimeter away from her skin. It swirled, constantly moving. It was all colors and, at the same time, had a definite bluish tinge. Little whirlpools formed, coalesced, dissipated. She moved a little, still sleeping; Clark saw the aura move with her, leaving a tiny trail of "light" behind itself as it followed her body. The brightness of the blue made the air surrounding the aura appear very dark.

Damn. This was interesting. He'd never looked at someone this way before. _I guess there's always something new to learn. _Carefully keeping the mental state he needed, Clark moved his gaze slightly to look at Shelby. The old golden retriever slept on the floor by the couch. Clark could see a similar aura surrounding the canine. Interestingly, the aura seemed less complex than Chloe's; also, it had a yellowish tinge. Clark smiled as he considered that. _What other color would you expect for a Golden?_

Driven by curiosity, he looked down at his own hand. Clark didn't know if Kryptonians were different from Earthlings in this, as they were in so many other things. He was relieved to see that he did possess a similar aura; his had a red color, with tinges of yellow and orange. Fascinated, he stared at it for several minutes, trying to follow the complex twisting and uniting of the currents.

A sigh from Chloe brought him back to his duty. He was supposed to be watching out for her, he remembered with a hint of guilt. Clark dragged his gaze back to her, sat back more comfortably in his chair. He had it now; he was seeing in multiple spectra. It was becoming easier as he kept on doing it. Clark knew that he could slip back into this vision state now, as easily as he brought up his X-ray vision. It was just a matter of knowing what you wanted. The toughest part had been controlling the X-ray vision the first time; once he had that, this new vision was just a variation on a theme.

Clark waited patiently, keeping his eyelids mostly closed, but peeping through the tiny slit-like openings. Viewing Chloe and her aura fascinated him. He felt like he could spend hours just watching the patterns move and change. Yet somehow the aura fit Chloe, _was_ her. After watching it just a short time, Clark knew that he could see it again, somewhere, somehow, and he would know it as Chloe. Hmm. After this, he'd definitely have to try this out on other people. His mother – she'd be OK with it, he knew. He wondered what Martha Kent's aura looked like.

He continued to look at Chloe. Clark's breathing sped up just a bit when her aura moved. Was this normal? It hadn't happened so far in the twenty minutes he'd been viewing her. Was she dreaming? Did that make a difference? He didn't move, just watched her.

Her body position didn't change. But her aura, the blue fire that encompassed her, did. Out of nowhere, a purplish field _pushed_ Chloe's aura to one side. She looked oddly unbalanced. The purple aura grew, taking up more space, collapsing the Chloe-blue into a smaller and smaller area. Finally, the purple totally encompassed the last remaining bit of blue, overwhelmed it, put it out. Clark made himself sit still.

Chloe's eyes opened. Her breathing and heartbeat picked up. She gave a cautious glance at Clark, sitting there apparently asleep in his chair. Clark, viewing Chloe, could see that her aura was now purple and _different._ He could see no sign of the blue. That scared him. Was Chloe OK? From the glance she'd given him, Clark could see that her eyes were different again – whoever was there, wasn't Chloe.

Not-Chloe removed the blanket, got up quietly. Shelby didn't move; Clark thought that the dog probably had some hearing loss in his old age. Not-Chloe stepped carefully over Shelby and picked up her shoes. She quietly put them on, giving a nervous look at Clark every few seconds. He sat unmoving, observing her through mostly-closed eyes, wanting to leap up and grab the imposter, but also wanting more information.

She gave Clark another wary glance, reassured by his stillness. Then she slowly walked past him to Chloe's laptop sitting on Clark's desk. Not-Chloe gave a little smile; Clark was chilled to see how much it looked like Chloe's smile, but there was still that _difference. _She picked up the laptop and, still walking slowly and quietly, headed for the stairs.

She got on the first step, gave a triumphant smile. Then she gasped as Clark grabbed her. He'd gone into superspeed, and from her point of view, had vanished from the chair and appeared in front of her.

"What have you done with Chloe?" Clark asked her fiercely.


	3. The Ghost Speaks

"What have you done with Chloe?" Clark asked her fiercely.

"I don't know what you mean", she said, obviously trying to bluff him.

"I know you're not Chloe. What have you done with her? Where is she?" Panic flooded him at the thought that Chloe might be harmed, or worse, dead. He didn't let go of the impostor; in fact, he squeezed her just a little harder.

"Ow!" she said. "Gimme a break, will you?" Whoever it was, they had the Chloe voice down. Shelby woke up, came over to them. He sniffed Chloe. Again, his ears went down and his hackles went up.

"Tell me where she is!" Clark grew more frantic.

Not-Chloe stared him in the face. "No." Defiant tone. No answers here.

Standoff. What could he do? Clark cast about for answers. He couldn't hurt Chloe's body. Physical threats were out. _It's time for the EMP arrows. _ He dragged Not-Chloe along with him, back to the couch. Shelby kept his distance, growling at Chloe's body. Keeping her gripped in one hand, Clark pulled the blanket off the silver case.

Clark reached for the case to open it; his eye was caught by light glinting off the polished surface of the steel rod sitting on the table next to the arrow case. About a quarter inch thick and a foot long, the piece of steel tapered to a blunt point at one end. An idea burst in Clark's head. He'd chased this interloper out before. He could do it again. But using the psychology…

Clark grasped the steel rod, held it in his right hand. His left hand kept an iron grip on Chloe's bicep. Suddenly he felt confident. Gesturing with the steel rod, he said in a deep voice, "You will tell me what I want to know, or you will be exorcised into the everlasting darkness with my Wand of Power."

Not-Chloe gawked in total disbelief for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Come on!" she said. Sarcasm dripped off her voice. "You don't have anything better than that?"

Clark didn't answer. He kept the wand moving in complex curves as a distraction. His real idea had been to try to disrupt the aura with his vision. He knew that he emitted a small X-ray pulse when he saw with X-ray vision; if he could do that, why not emit at other frequencies? He certainly emitted heat when he used the heat vision. He just had to find the right wavelength, or combination…

"Tell me, O foolish one, or face the eternal doom!" Clark couldn't believe he was coming up with this sappy dialogue. Frantically he switched into all-vision mode, seeing the purple aura around Chloe. It didn't fit, somehow – just didn't seem right. He started with the X-ray vision, giving off small pulses. No change in the purple aura.

He worked his way down the spectrum, being careful to avoid the heat. No change in the purple. And whoever it was had started to laugh harder at his antics. Not-Chloe was pulling away from his grip, trying to get him to let her loose. Clark wouldn't.

"Your time is short, interloper!" Clark chanted in a deep bass. He gave the steel rod a big swoop while trying to think. _How about matching her aura?_ He emitted a particular UHF wavelength. It _fit_, somehow; resonated properly with this purple aura. He…_locked_ it down, somehow. He didn't know how he was doing it; somehow, he knew if he stopped to think about how, he wouldn't be able to do it. It was like the poem about the centipede who was doing fine till someone asked it, "Which foot comes after which?" Then it got all tangled up. He kept on working.

Clark moved up the spectrum. Another wavelength seemed to fit the aura; he locked that one down too. Feeling more confident, he moved up, finding a frequency in each area of the spectrum that seemed to "lock" on to the intruder. He'd automatically slipped into super-speed for this; the finding and locking that seemed to take him minutes was imperceptible to the owner of the purple aura.

_There._ He'd hit the right combination, somehow. The purple aura recoiled from his vision. Not-Chloe screamed. Clark felt guilty. He aimed his vision output at the center of Chloe's chest. No heat in this emission; from what he felt, it seemed to be a combination of X-ray, microwave, visual, and radio waves. Clark looked carefully at Chloe; her skin seemed to be fine, the body healthy. The Not-Chloe screamed again and Clark saw the purple aura shudder and waver.

"What are you doing?" the interloper gasped.

"I warned you", Clark said portentously, bringing the steel wand down in elaborate curlicues, stopping with it pointed directly at Chloe. He gave another vision blast at the same time, and saw the purple aura begin to shred. Tiny tendrils came off the edges, spiraling off into the darkness.

"Aah! I'll tell! Just stop!" Chloe's body was gasping.

"Bring Chloe back first!" Clark demanded, bringing the steel wand closer to Chloe's body and punctuating his demand with another burst of aura-shredding vision, this one at a lesser intensity.

"I can't---aah!" the entity choked out as Clark gave another vision burst.

"Oh, I think you can", Clark said genially, menacing Not-Chloe with his steel wand.

"She'll kick me out of the body—"

_That was interesting. _"Either you bring Chloe back or I destroy you right here!" Clark wasn't kidding; he was really concerned about Chloe now. He couldn't see her aura anymore. What if she was dead?

The Not-Chloe looked at him. It realized that Clark was serious. "She's OK, man, she's just asleep!" The body swallowed. "Please don't let her kick me out all the way or I'll die."

Clark gave an internal sigh of relief at the words, _She's OK._ He kept a stern expression on his face. "If you don't bring her back you'll die anyway. Sooner." He jabbed Chloe's body in the stomach lightly with the wand to emphasize his point.

"OK, OK!" The ghost sounded frantic. Clark kept hold of Chloe's arm. He watched intently. The purple aura contracted a little bit; a tiny bit of blue became visible in the center of the chest. The blue got larger, and more definite; it pushed the purple off to the sides, expanding itself until it took up most of the body. The purple stayed, fighting off the blue encroachment, but losing the battle.

Clark could see the change in Chloe's eyes. Whoever the owner of the purple aura was, left, and Chloe took back possession of her own body.

"Chloe?" Clark asked her.

"Clark?" Chloe looked around, saw herself standing with Clark gripping her arm. "From what you're doing, I'm assuming that our friend came back?" Her voice trembled. Being possessed was bad enough, but having no memory of what you'd done…

"Chloe. This is important. Whatever you're doing inside yourself, stop it."

"That's not a lot of help, Clark." Chloe's voice was regaining its customary snark.

"I want you to stay still. Just breathe. Don't freak out when I tell you this."

"What, Clark?" she sounded suspicious.

"I think the ghost is still there. It's in your body." Clark looked at her; Chloe shivered. Obviously she was freaking out.

"Aargh! Get it out, get it out!"

"Chloe, calm down."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who got possessed." Despite her sarcastic words, Chloe was settling down. Clark loved that about her; she was so adaptable to _unusual_ situations.

Clark kept his voice low. "I know this sounds crazy. But I think we've got whoever it is trapped. And we have to talk with them to find out what's going on and to settle the problem so they don't bother you any more."

Chloe considered this for a moment. "OK", she said slowly. "But how?"

Clark gave her a significant look. He wasn't sure how much the interloper could hear or sense and he didn't want to give away his abilities. "I can tell where it is and I can hurt it with my Wand of Doom." He gestured with the steel rod, pointing it at his eyes momentarily in a seemingly innocent maneuver.

Chloe's eyes widened. She obviously picked up on his unspoken hint. "Your Wand of Doom", she repeated, smiling a bit at the comical name. "Clark…"

"Don't worry, Chloe, I've got you covered." Clark stared without blinking into her eyes, putting all the confidence he could into his tone. "Trust me on this."

Chloe straightened up. Resolve came into her face. "I will." Then she gave him a perplexed look. "What next?"

"Well, our friend is still in you", Clark admitted. "You have to let him come up."

She didn't look very happy about _that, _he could tell. Chloe opened her mouth to say something, closed it again, apparently reviewing his assurances. "OK. I will. But – now I'm talking to whoever you are – you can talk but don't try to do anything else." She shot glances all over the room, looking in all directions, as if she could see the interloper.

Chloe and Clark stood still for a few moments. Nothing happened.

"Ah, Chloe, I think it might go better if you lay down on the couch again and relaxed", Clark said. In response to her reluctant expression, he again used the steel rod to gesture toward his eyes and said, "Remember, I've got you covered."

Chloe gave a thin but brave smile and stretched out on the couch. She remained still for a few minutes. Clark switched back to multiple-spectrum vision, seeing the auras again. As Chloe calmed, he saw the purple aura become larger, move toward the head.

"No tricks", Clark growled, menacing Chloe's body with the steel wand. "Just talk."

"OK." Chloe clapped her hands over her mouth, got up partially.

"It wasn't me who said that, Clark!" she said urgently.

"I could tell that, Chloe", he said gently. "Can you let it happen again?"

"I think so…" she said, an inward expression on her countenance. She lay back down on her back. Clark could tell she was freaking out again but she was trying to control it. It wasn't as bad as the last time. He checked out the auras; the purple remained small compared with the size of the blue, but it was still present.

"I think you just have to let it happen", Clark said gently. "Are you ready?" She nodded. "I'll ask another question. Just try to…stand back, and let whoever it is answer it."

"OK." Clark could tell this was Chloe responding.

He stood, looming over Chloe lying on the couch. Clark adjusted his grip on the steel bar; he'd been holding it a little too tightly and it had deformed in the middle from the pressure of his fingertips. He took a deep breath, re-adjusted his vision, which had a tendency to slip back into the visual spectrum when he wasn't concentrating on it.

"Who are you?" Clark asked, looking at Chloe, but meaning his words for the purple aura. He could see it moving; then the blue aura flowed around it, pushing it away.

"Chloe, relax." He spoke reassuringly. "I won't let it hurt you." She gave him another weak smile. Clark could see the blue aura falling back, the purple encroaching.

"Who are you?" Clark asked again. The purple aura grew.

"Mike." The word came from Chloe's mouth but didn't sound like her.

"Well, that's not what I expected", Chloe said, now back in control of her own voice. She actually smiled. "I'm being possessed by a spirit named _Mike_?"

Clark glared at her body. "Mike who?"

Chloe's mouth moved; nothing came out. Clark cast a reassuring glance, murmured again, "Relax."

She did relax. It seemed as if she was learning how to let the ghost share her body. The purple aura crept up to her head again.

"Mike who?" Clark repeated.

The spirit took control of Chloe's voice again. Clark could tell now when this was happening – not only the change in the purple aura, but a change in the way Chloe's face looked, a change in the way her voice formed words, a change in the way she spoke.

"Mike Reilly", the voice said. Chloe remained silent with an effort, obviously not wanting to disrupt the lines of communication.

"Why are you here, Mike?" Clark asked ominously. "Why are you messing with my friend?" He tapped the steel wand significant in the palm of his hand.

"Don't hurt me!" Mike said, moving Chloe's eyes to stare at the wand. "I'll do what you want."

"What is it we want, Chloe?" Clark asked rhetorically. "After all, it's your body." He saw the blue push away the purple and Chloe's face and voice return to her control.

"Tell us everything", Chloe said firmly. She breathed hard for a minute.

Momentary silence from the interloper. "You heard what the lady wants", Clark said significantly. "Speak up." He gestured with the wand, prepared to blast the unwelcome visitor with his aura-shredding vision.

"OK." The voice was resigned. "My name is Mike Reilly. I'm not really a ghost. I'm alive."

Clark raised his eyebrows. Chloe remained still on the couch.

"Um, usually I don't tell people this because they think I'm crazy, but you guys have already figured it out", Mike continued.

Clark made a "go on" gesture with his hand.

Sounding a little desperate, Mike said, "I can separate my spirit from my body and enter other people's bodies."

"Obviously proven true", Chloe said raising her eyebrows. "But why me?"

"Yeah, why her?" Clark echoed.

"I needed a body!" Mike said desperately.

Clark and Chloe exchanged a glance.

"You needed a body?" Chloe asked, semi-incredulously. "I thought you said you had a body and you could separate your spirit from it." She was getting really good at handing off the voice to the interloper, Clark noticed with interest.

Mike continued. "You were the only option I had."

"You were weak?" Clark asked, interested now.

"I can do the astral travel bit only for so long. When I'm out of a body too long, I get weak. I've never allowed myself to get too weak; I think it might kill me." Desperation tinged Mike's voice again. "I need a certain amount of time in a body after I do the astral travel before I can do it again."

"How long?" Clark and Chloe asked simultaneously. They looked at each other again, smiling. _Great minds thinking alike_, Clark thought.

"About thirty minutes", Mike said. "It's longer sometimes if I'm weaker or if the body is really active or tired."

"Why here? Why me?" Chloe asked.

The purple aura shivered, grew smaller. Mike's voice, coming from Chloe's mouth, had a defensive tone. "I was sent."

"What do you mean, you were _sent_?" Clark asked.

Mike seemed abashed. "Just that. That was my assignment. Take over your body, look at your files and paperwork and computer and lodgings, and find out everything I could about you."

Clark and Chloe exchanged another glance. They both knew who was most likely to have that agenda, most likely to use pawns to find out.

"Who sent you?" Clark said, noticing his voice had turned more menacing. His grip tightened on the steel wand again, bending it. Clark relaxed his hand before the bend became obvious.

"Dr. Caselli."

Again Chloe glanced at Clark. He hadn't heard the name before.

Clark menaced Mike again with the steel wand. "I'm getting tired of pulling this out of you bit by bit", he said menacingly. "Tell us the whole story."

"OK, OK!" Mike said, fixing Chloe's eyes again on the wand. "Going right back to the beginning…." He swallowed. "I was a regular guy till about fifteen months ago", he said.

Chloe interjected here. "Till the second meteor shower", she said flatly.

"How'd you know that?" Mike asked, surprised.

"Never mind. Go on", Clark said.

"I was actually asleep when the meteors hit – I used to work midnights then. And…this sounds so corny…"

"Go on", Clark said again, impatient.

Mike seemed abashed. "I was having one of those flying dreams. And when I woke up, I was flying. That's when I got this…talent. I could leave my body."

"So you immediately set out to take over other people's", Clark said angrily.

"No! It wasn't like that at all!" Mike said forcefully. "I played around with it for awhile. Then one time I saw a guy sleeping and it just came to me, see if I could get into his body." He swallowed. "It was really weird. I could. Then I could control the body too. It was like I took it over." His voice trembled. "It was creepy. I got really freaked out about it and I went to talk with a psychiatrist. I didn't know if I was hallucinating or what. This whole thing was so crazy. Anyway, I went to Dr. Caselli—"

"Dr. Caselli?" Chloe said, ripping control of the voice away from her visitor. "_The_ Dr. Caselli?"

"If you mean the guy who's in charge of Belle Reve admissions, yeah", Mike said sourly. "I told him about what I was doing. Then the next night, suddenly I was an involuntary commitment to Belle Reve. Apparently I was a 'danger to myself and others'."

Clark relaxed his grip on the wand a little. He looked at Chloe.

"That sounds like something Dr. Caselli would do", Clark murmured. "We know he's been involved in some other shady patient transfers."

Chloe said, "They must have really wanted you. Committing someone involuntarily isn't all that easy. There's a ton of paperwork." She sounded a little more accepting now.

"Yeah, I don't know how they did all that", Mike said. Clark noted that it was weird to hear Chloe's voice holding up both ends of the conversation, and even weirder that Clark could tell which personality was doing the talking.

Chloe said musingly, "I'm betting there was some Luthorcorp money greasing the skids on your slide into the mental asylum."

Clark said, "Why didn't you call someone?"

"There wasn't anybody!" Mike said fiercely. "They keep me confined! I can't talk to anyone outside the clinic staff. And who would I call? I moved here just before the meteor shower. My wife died in a car accident, and I wanted to get away from Metropolis and everyone I knew there. My best friend's in the military, and he's deployed overseas. I don't have any family except---" he trailed off.

"Except what?" Clark prodded.

"Except my daughter. And they have her", Mike said bleakly.

"What?" Chloe asked.

"When I was put into Belle Reve, my daughter was made a ward of the court. Dr. Caselli petitioned the Family Court to give temporary guardianship to a foster family. Mike's voice was bitterly ironic. "The foster family is some people he knows. I couldn't get hold of any lawyers to contest it. It sailed right through. And now he's got my daughter…"

Clark sat silent for a moment. "Which is why you're doing this", he said, realizing the man's dilemma.

"Yeah. They tell me to go somewhere, and take over someone, and get all their information. If I do it, they let me see my daughter." Mike's voice was quiet. He sighed. "So, I'm sorry about this. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't know what else to do."

Clark and Chloe glanced at each other. This was not what they'd expected. Clark knew that he'd been counting on some inimical force, had anticipated getting rid of it in some final fashion. To realize that it was someone who needed help…

A cry from Mike interrupted their silent conversation. "They're pulling me back!" he said. Clark switched again to the aura-seeing mode. He opened his eyes wide at the sight of the purple aura. It was retreating from Chloe's body. Parts of the aura tried to "stick" to the body, but the center was being pulled away and the edges must follow.

"Come back!" Clark said urgently.

"If I can", Mike said, using Chloe's voice. The voice already sounded distant. "Later – I'll try."

Clark saw the edges of the purple aura pull away from the confines of Chloe's body. The aura left her body, immediately seeming less brilliant, weaker, to Clark. It traveled to the loft window, then outside. Clark sped to the window to see it move westward. Then he lost sight of it in the purplish twilight.


	4. The Ghost Leaves

He walked back to the chair, sat down. He looked at Chloe, just now rising from the couch. She swung her legs over the edge, sat up. Both stared at each other for a moment.

"Well. That was weird", Chloe offered. She began rubbing her legs.

"Chloe, are you OK?" Clark asked.

"I'm fine now. Our friend _is_ gone, isn't he?" she replied. "I don't…feel…him in me anymore."

_That's interesting too. _ "Yes. I could see him go."

Chloe raised her eyebrows at the revelation of another power. "See him?"

Clark felt restless. "Your suggestion about multiple spectra was a good one, Chloe. I could see…I don't know what you'd call it…his aura, or whatever." He stood up, took a few paces. "What did it feel like to you? Could you see him?"

Chloe rubbed her arms, held them close to her body. "No, I couldn't see him. But I could feel him. It was like…was like…I can't really describe it, Clark." Tartness infused her tone. "I've never been possessed before where I _shared _the body – they always just took over the whole thing before." She stopped rubbing, held her hand in front of her, looked at it intently. "It was the weirdest thing – I'd feel myself say something, but I wasn't the one saying it. Someone else was controlling it. Someone else was moving my body." A tinge of desperation came into her voice. "Thanks for doing whatever it was that you did, Clark."

"Chloe…" Clark moved over, hugged her tightly. Chloe's heart was pounding. She was actually crying a little bit. Despite her outward coolness, she'd been seriously freaked out by the whole episode.

"You're doing something, but it's not _you_", she said, shivering. "I used to worry about things like that, when I found out about my mother. I'd worry that I'd end up in Belle Reve…"

Clark just held her.

She trembled in his arms for a moment. Then Chloe regained her composure and put a social smile on her face. "I assume the Wand of Doom was a prop?" The snarky tone was back in her voice.

"Yes." Clark said. "I got this idea and wanted to try it out and see if we could save the EMP arrows for later on." He quickly filled Chloe in on the whole frequency-matching Aura-Destruct-O-Vision.

Chloe sat in thought. "So…you're seeing auras. What's mine look like?"

"It's beautiful, Chloe", Clark said, his voice low. "It matches you so much…" She gave him a sharp glance. He swallowed. "I looked at Shelby too – his aura is yellow. Mine is red."

Chloe said, "They come in _colors_?"

"Yep." Clark could tell she was curious. "Yours is blue."

"What kind of blue?" she demanded. "Azure? Cerulean? Blue-purple? Royal blue? Midnight?"

"Wow, somebody just got the 64-box of Crayolas recently, didn't they?" he teased her. Then Clark took pity on her. "It was all those colors. It swirled. It moved. It's one of the most fascinating things I've ever seen."

Silence again. Chloe stepped back a little; he released his hold on her. A distracted expression was in her eyes. "Clark", she said.

"What?"

"I think we need to find out more about this."

"_This _being…"

"Who Mike is, what's his story, and what we can do to help him out." Chloe began pacing, her bare feet making little noise on the thick rug covering the wooden floor.


	5. What To Do Next?

"I'm interested in why they're interested in you", Clark said grimly.

"Well, I'm assuming it's the Luthors until proven otherwise", said Chloe. "We've got all the signs – meteor-infected person taken prisoner, blackmail to control him…"

"Do you think his story is plausible?" Clark said, playing devil's advocate.

"Well, you can't deny that he has a power. I mean, he showed it right here. And…"

"What, Chloe?"

"This is weird…" she said.

"Go on", Clark said encouragingly.

"When he was in my body, and he was saying stuff, I could sort of feel what he was feeling. He felt angry when he was talking about getting trapped in Belle Reve. When he talked about his daughter, I got a sense of desperation. But it all…it all _felt_ truthful." Chloe gestured with her hands, not really sure how to describe it.

Clark looked steadily at her. "I'll trust your feelings, Chloe." He smiled. Then, turning away and settling back down in the chair, he said, "What to do next?"

Chloe sat down on the couch again. "Well, let's do what we can to confirm his story."

"Ideas?" Clark knew that she would have some.

"Clark, tomorrow can you go to the courthouse and look up the paperwork? I'd do it, but I have to work all day tomorrow at the _Planet._"

"Of course, Chloe."

"Find out about the committal to Belle Reve and look into the Family Court custody decisions too." Chloe pulled out her PDA, began making notes. "I'll use the databases and see what I can pull out from Belle Reve."

"OK, that's the plan. I'll call you tomorrow with what I find out." Clark stood up. "It's already late. You don't really want to drive back to Metropolis now, do you?"

Chloe gave him a winning smile. "I assume you're offering a Smallville Shuttle ride?"

"My pleasure." Clark didn't want to think of Chloe this late, tired, on the road. The formerly three-hour trip to Metropolis had been reduced to two hours, or even ninety minutes on a good-weather, no-traffic day, thanks to some road re-routing and upgrading, but it was still a hike. "I can come tomorrow – I can either drive your car, or bring you back here for you to get it." He gestured toward her purse. "Be sure and leave me the keys."

"Oh." Chloe rummaged in her bag, pulled out a key ring. "Let me just make sure I've got everything."

They left the loft, walking down through the barn. The earthy scents of straw and manure tickled Chloe's nose. She saw a few tiny strands of hay floating in the light beam emanating from the loft, and coughed, by suggestion more than by a real irritation in her throat. Clark followed her outdoors into the clear, quiet night.

"Wow, good stars tonight", she said, looking up. It always amazed her how well she could see the stars here in Smallville. _In Metropolis, you'd be lucky to see any stars at all_, she thought. Clark followed her gaze, but didn't look up for long. _I guess he's used to it._

Chloe opened her car, got out her totebag and put a few items in it. She closed it, handed the keys to Clark. He put them into his jeans pocket.

"You ready?" he asked her.

"Uh-huh." Clark swung her up in his arms, adjusting her purse and totebag around her body. Chloe clasped her arms around his neck. She turned her face inward, resting her cheek against his chest. She was petite; Clark had caught and carried much bigger people in the past. But she was one of his favorites.

"All set?" he asked her again. They'd decided to start "air traffic control" talk after one frightening episode where she wasn't completely settled in. Clark had taken off running when she wasn't tucked in properly and Chloe had gotten severe wind burn on her exposed arm. She considered herself fortunate that it wasn't her face and eyes that had been exposed to the almost supersonic velocities that time.

"Roger that, Smallville Shuttle", she said teasingly. "We are OK for liftoff." Clark smiled at her voice, muffled by her talking into his shirt.

"OK, Houston, we have liftoff." Clark gave one last look to see that Chloe was properly situated. He tensed his muscles and began to run.

As ever, running in super-speed was a whole different experience. To him, Chloe froze in his arms. He could feel her heartbeat, but there were only about five beats on the whole trip. Clark had asked her once what she felt when he carried her this way.

"I don't feel anything, Clark." She'd looked interested. Questions like that set off her journalist personality, he'd decided. "It's like, you hold me, there's maybe a little bit of a blur, and then we're somewhere else." She thought about adding, _"It feels different than teleporting_", but had decided not to, not wanting to bring up painful memories of Alicia Baker, Clark's erstwhile wife. Of course, she owed Alicia a debt – of gratitude? – maybe. It was Alicia who'd opened her eyes, let Chloe see Clark use his powers, let her know about him.

"What do you feel?" she'd asked him in return.

Clark couldn't say much. "It just feels like running", he'd mumbled. He was introspective about his powers, but there wasn't much to be introspective about here. It was just running fast. So much for world-shaking insight.

He thought of that as he reached Metropolis. If running fast was a super power, it was a mundane superpower.

Clark sped up to Chloe's apartment complex, dropped out of super-speed. He felt her come alive again in his arms. "We're here", he said unnecessarily.

"Want some water or something before you go back?" Chloe asked him. A wide yawn interrupted her invitation.

Clark smiled. "I think you need to get some sleep", he said. "I'll be fine." He did walk up with her to the apartment, and made sure she got in OK. As she closed and locked the door behind him, he said, "Sleep tight, Chloe."

"'Bye, Clark!" she called through the door.

* * *

He sped back home, enjoying the crisp cool night. Traffic was light and he easily avoided the few cars on the roads. Clark zoomed up to the farm, stopped at Chloe's car parked in the drive. He didn't feel tired at all. He looked down at the keys in his pocket – along with the car keys, he recognized a set of apartment keys as well. Chloe had given him a set of keys to her apartment in the past, and Clark had given her keys to his house, although the farmhouse was often unlocked.

The next morning, Chloe woke to find her keys on her kitchen table, along with a note from Clark. "Your car is in space 419."

Chloe smiled, picked up the keys, and walked out, jingling them. "What a guy", she said under her breath. "What a guy."


	6. Belle Reve Info

Chloe walked in, ignoring the clicking computer keyboards, ringing telephones, and muffled and not-so-muffled conversations that comprised the background noise of the _Daily Planet_ basement staff. She took another large sip of coffee, wishing she'd had time that morning to make her customary pot of espresso. Unfortunately, she'd stayed up so late (even with Clark delivering her back to her apartment in next to no time) that she'd overslept. The morning had been a confused jumble of trying to get ready, rushing here and there. She'd actually forgotten to put on her makeup till she was between her morning classes at Met U, and the less said about her hair, the better.

Of course, the professor _would_ call on her today, and she'd been only partly prepared, having intended to spend some time last night studying. Chloe had launched into a verbose answer, trying to disguise her lack of actual deep knowledge. She had a morose feeling that Professor Smith had seen through her verbal obfuscation, and made a mental resolution to get caught up on her homework and background reading.

Thank God for Clark. She had been prepared to take the bus to class and from there to the _Planet_, but his note telling her that he'd brought her car home last night was a lifesaver. _The way I'm running late today_, Chloe thought, _I'd have missed the bus anyway._ Clark. That was so like him – to do a kind act and avoid the thank-yous. He did his good works in a quiet way.

Chloe spared a minute to wonder how many times Clark had rescued her, not just recently, but even before she knew his secret. He didn't say much about his saves. Chloe only knew they happened if she was present when Clark made some otherworldly, incredible rescue. Chloe knew about Clark's other saves (the ones not involving her) only because she nagged Clark unmercifully. _He's got to get out of his barn sometimes, and have actual conversations, _she thought.

* * *

That evening, Chloe wearily climbed the stairs to the barn loft. Clark had invited her over, after she'd called him and said she had news. Despite the invitation, he wasn't in the loft. Chloe looked around, tired and irritated.

"Where is he?" she grumbled. "Ask me to show up, and then he's not here…"

A breeze, a reddish blur, and Clark stood in front of her, a tiny smile on his lips.

"That still freaks me out sometimes when you do that", Chloe said, in a tone that indicated she was not in the least freaked out. "You're late."

"Not very", Clark said.

Chloe dropped her laptop and briefcase onto the old couch with a muffled thud. She followed, flopping down, spreading her arms and legs and putting her head back.

"Gosh, Clark, I'm so tired", she said. "Could I impose on our friendship and ask you to get me a glass of water?"

Clark gave her a look that clearly said, _OK, I'm going to humor you this time_. Another breeze, and Chloe saw his form waver and flicker. Then he handed her a glass of ice water, drops of condensation rolling down the outer surface. She drained half the glass in her first swallow.

"Wow, that's good", Chloe said. She patted the couch next to her. "Sit down, Clark, and let me show you what I learned today."

"What've you got?" Clark asked in an interested tone, sitting down and taking a drink from his own glass of water at the same time.

"Well…" Chloe drew it out as she unpacked her laptop, setting it on the small table in front of the couch. She sat up straight, tiredness momentarily pushed away. "I figured we'd better find out something about Belle Reve. You know, considering the situation and all."

Clark sat up too, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, Chloe, now that you mention it…"

"What?"

"I've never really thought about it at all. It was always, well, just _there._"

"Exactly!" Chloe said triumphantly. "All you native Smallvillians feel that way. But as a semi-outsider, I started thinking about it."

"And what did you find?" Clark asked impatiently.

"Ready?" Chloe asked. "It's a long story."

Clark responded by sitting back on the couch, taking another sip of water, and saying "Fire away."

"OK." Chloe momentarily fiddled with her laptop. "You probably know that the building was constructed in 1887 as an insane asylum."

"I've seen the cornerstone with the date", Clark interjected.

"Yes. As you also know, Smallville is roughly equidistant from Topeka and Metropolis."

"Uh-huh." Clark nodded.

"Apparently neither city wanted to have the loons running around in the streets," Chloe said sarcastically, "and both towns wanted the patients to be far away, at least far away enough that they could be out-of-sight, out-of-mind." Chloe took another drink.

"So Lowell County got stuck with it." Clark sounded rueful.

"Yeah. The first fifty years or so, they had a few criminally insane inmates, but not too many. Not to say that Lowell County didn't contribute more inmates than you'd expect on a per-capita basis, but most of the patients were from the big cities. There were your basic schizophrenics and manic-depressives, but mostly they were there for general paresis of the insane."

Clark raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"The neurologic form of syphilis, Clark", Chloe explained.

Clark blushed.

"In the grand tradition of following the money, note that at this time Belle Reve was a state institution." Chloe fingered her laptop keyboard, bringing up a pie chart. The pie was all one color so far. "Entirely funded by the State of Kansas."

"So how would one end up in Belle Reve at this time?" Clark asked.

"Pretty much, if you came to the attention of the authorities in a way that indicated you were crazy, they'd commit you." Chloe sounded grim. "Local judges could remand patients to the state institution with very little oversight."

"Hmm", Clark said, inwardly wondering if that had changed much.

"Of course, there was such a tremendous stigma to mental illness – not that there isn't today—" Chloe looked away "—that families would try very hard to keep the person confined or whatever. It tended to be lower-class people who got committed; they just wanted to get them off the streets. Richer people could usually afford the private care to keep their crazy relations from being a nuisance." She took another sip of water. "So it tended to be the people who were friendless and family-less, or people who were violent or who were acting out in a really crazy way that ended up in Belle Reve."

"You don't hear much about neurologic syphilis these days", Clark murmured thoughtfully.

"Bingo, Mr. Kent!" Chloe said. "And why is that?" she asked in a teacher-like tone.

"Um…penicillin?" Clark asked.

"Bingo again, Mr. Kent. When penicillin came in during the 1940's it was truly a miracle drug. The crazy syphilitics got better. Of course, you know what that led to."

"No, what?"

"Decreased patient census, Clark! Less syphilis, less patients! Belle Reve lost maybe three-quarters of its inmates in that decade."

"That was good, isn't it?" Clark asked.

"No, that was bad", Chloe answered.

"Why?"

"Because Belle Reve, bad as it was – you wouldn't believe the stories of how they treated the insane in those days – provided a lot of jobs to Lowell County."

"And if the hospital is three-quarters empty, it's hard to get the state to continue funding." Clark knew that much from listening to his mother. In her efforts to get more money for schools, she'd gone over the state budget line by line. It had been a radicalizing experience for Clark. "Either the legislature will keep the same budget and someone will pocket the excess, or the legislature will cut funding."

"Right!" Chloe agreed. Despite being only an intern at the _Daily Planet_, her connections with Martha Kent had allowed her to cover enough of the state Capitol beat to make her deeply cynical. "So, the Lowell County Commissioners, and the mayors of Smallville, Granville, and a bunch of other towns within a hundred-mile radius, got their game on and worked out a plan."

"A plan." Clark said flatly.

"Yep, a plan." Chloe played with her laptop some more. "They got together and designated Belle Reve as a teaching mental hospital for the medical schools in Topeka, Metropolis, Wichita, Lawrence, and any other remotely "big" city that had a hospital, or any facility affiliated with a medical training program."

The pie chart split into several slices, each a different color. "The hospitals would send their mental patients to Belle Reve. That way each hospital didn't have to have its own separate program, and the Belle Reve physical facility was kept full." Chloe looked at Clark. "The students, the intern psychiatrists and psychologists got to see a lot of cases, more weird stuff in three months than they would have seen in small community hospitals in four years, and Belle Reve got funding from the various programs, universities, and hospitals. It was considered payment for the training."

"OK", Clark said, not knowing where Chloe was going with this, but willing to follow.

"Then, in the fifties and sixties, psychoactive drugs came along that actually helped some patients." Chloe touched her keyboard; the pie chart was replaced by various drug names and pharmaceutical information. "Chlorpromazine; Librium; the revolution in medications was just beginning and it's continued up to the present day. Anti-depressants, anti-schizophrenia drugs…"

"And the significance of this is…" Clark prompted.

"More patients moved out." Chloe smiled momentarily.

Clark smiled. "That's good, isn't it?" he said, deliberately repeating his previous words.

"No, that's bad", Chloe replied, playing along. "The jobs issue again…" She started laughing. "You know, Clark, that reminds me of the joke about the guy that visited the dermatologist." She paused, smiling.

Clark gave her a quizzical look. "Come on, tell me. You can't stop there."

"OK. So this guy goes to a dermatologist. He's got some weird rash on his arm. The dermatologist looks at it, doesn't really know what it is, so he asks the guy what he does. The guy says, 'Well, I work for the circus. And I help take care of the elephants. And, about an hour before the elephants go on to perform, we give them a laxative so they don't leave manure in the show ring.'" Chloe started giggling.

"Go on", Clark said, starting to laugh himself just because Chloe was.

"So the dermatologist says, 'So what?' And the guy says, 'Well, if the laxative doesn't work, I have to do a rectal probe and manual extraction of the manure.' So the dermatologist figures it out, and tells the guy if he wants his rash to clear up, he's got to stop shoving his arm up elephant heinies." Chloe started laughing harder.

"What?" Clark said, waiting to hear the punch line.

Chloe could hardly speak, she was laughing so hard. "And the guy says, 'What? And give up show business?'"

Clark started laughing too, and the two of them roared for a minute. Then, as they tailed off, Chloe said, "Well, my point – and I do have one – is that the jobs at Belle Reve aren't great, but there aren't a lot of great jobs in Lowell County anyway, and at least they're jobs."

"So…" Clark prompted.

"So, when the patient census declined again, the powers that be went to a full-court press. They started adding all sorts of things, just to keep the facility full, since there weren't enough "wackos hearing voices" to keep the place running. They put in a juvenile mental health ward. They put a substance abuse detox program in one wing. Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous rent meeting rooms there."

She paused, took a sip of water. "They've got a daytime program for people with eating disorders. They even built an office wing for psychiatrists and psychologists, which I may say has always been under-performing. Something about going to your psych appointment and having to pass the barbed wire fence."

"Brings up unpleasant scenarios."

"There's an open unit too – people that need hospitalization for mental illness for a few days to weeks. They're confined, but it's not a really serious lockdown. I mean, the doors are locked and they don't put plastic bags in the wastepaper baskets, but it's not the kind of heavy security that the criminally insane get." She fiddled with her briefcase handle. "They can check themselves out at any time, legally, but mostly they're people who know they have a problem, and they have friends and family who are concerned about them, and most of them stay there to complete their treatment. One interesting thing I found here, Clark…"

"Yes?"

"This is where they usually do the electroshock."

Clark couldn't speak. He flashed back to the horrific time when he saw Lex undergoing electroshock at Lionel's behest to destroy Lex's memories.

"Clark, I know you're freaking out about this, but the whole Lex episode was totally unethical and illegal." Chloe sat straighter, talked firmly. "I've been looking into this. You know with my mother?"

Clark nodded.

"Anyway, it turns out that it wouldn't help her, but in certain cases of severe depression, it's actually the best treatment. The oral anti-depressants take too long to get blood levels up there, and at the amount you need, there's serious side effects."

"Chloe, I'm still a little leery…"

"I know, Clark. But what you told me about Lex's episode? Where only Lionel and one doctor were there? And it was in a totally different wing of the place. If Lionel hadn't set that up for his own purposes, if it were a real medically necessary thing, Lex would have had general anesthesia and a full monitoring team there." Chloe's voice was bitter. "What does it tell you about Lionel, that he wanted Lex to be awake for it, to feel the shock, to know what was going to happen and not be able to stop it?"

Clark said nothing, considered this for a moment. Then, getting back to the topic, he said, "So, about Belle Reve?"

"Oh." Chloe toggled back to the pie-chart window in her laptop. "Well, the people in the open unit have medical insurance with mental health coverage – which I may say is getting more and more unusual these days – so some of Belle Reve's funding comes from these patients." The pie chart morphed again, showing slices labeled "State", "County", "Medical Program", "Private Insurance", "Rental", and others.

Chloe continued. "Of course, after the meteor shower, suddenly a lot of people started ending up in Belle Reve. You know why."

Clark grimaced as he always did when reminded of the meteor shower; despite knowing in his head that he wasn't responsible for the effects of kryptonite on the local populace, he felt in his heart that he was responsible.

Chloe said, "The local board had to increase the secure area of the facility. It wasn't large enough after the meteor shower hit."

"Enlarged it - to lock up the meteor-infected." Clark said it flatly. "I've sent a fair number of people there myself."

"And, you know, Clark, what's really interesting?" she asked him.

"What?"

"Luthorcorp is making significant financial donations to Belle Reve now, in the disguise of grants aimed at studying the mentally ill and finding ways to help them. That's their story and they're sticking to it."

"But really?" Clark asked.

"Really, you and I know that Luthorcorp – i.e., Lex Luthor – is extremely interested in meteor freaks, and they're donating all this money to have some –no, a lot – of influence on the policies and control of Belle Reve."

Clark remembered something his mother had said. "Of course, the politicians just love it when some of the funding is taken up by the private sector. Then they can spend the money on their own pet projects."

"Yeah, it's not like homeless ranting schizophrenics and brain-damaged alcoholics have a major voting bloc in the Kansas Legislature." Cynicism was back in Chloe's voice.

"So…" Clark was overwhelmed by the data.

"So the part we're really interested in – and thanks for sitting through all my research – is the crisis center."

"Crisis center?"

"It's effectively an emergency room for mental disorders. People can be involuntarily committed there for seventy-two hours."

"Ah. Like our friend Mike." Clark got the connection now.

"But here's the thing. Once he's in Belle Reve, he falls into paperwork hell. There's so many programs there, and the oversight is so low, that he could get moved anywhere. There's supposed to be policies and fail-safes, but there are so many different areas that nobody really knows what's what." Chloe leaned back on the couch, aware of her fatigue again. "He could get put in with the involuntarily committed who waived their right to re-examination, or with the indigent chronically mentally ill inmates, or moved to the open unit, which, I remind you, is still locked up."

"How about with the serious meteor freaks?"

"I don't think they'd put him in the criminally insane wing", Chloe said. "That tends to be a little more noticeable, when people move in and out of there."

"But can we be sure of that?" Clark asked.

"No, we can't, Clark", Chloe said seriously. "Once you're in Belle Reve, especially if you're someone without friends or family, with no one to speak for you, pretty much anything can happen to you."


	7. More About Belle Reve

Chloe said seriously. "Once you're in Belle Reve, especially if you're someone without friends or family, with no one to speak for you, pretty much anything can happen to you."

Clark frowned.

"Oliver's been telling me that they've been finding evidence of people at the 33.1 sites he's been taking out", Clark mused. "The facilities have been empty, but it's obvious people have been there."

"The people could have been transferred from Belle Reve", Chloe said. "Lex could be using his influence. I'm sure he is." Suddenly her voice wavered. "I just don't like to think of it…people taken away, nobody caring about them, they're trapped…" she trailed off, swallowing hard.

Clark looked at her. "You're not thinking about….?"

"Any one of those people could be me, Clark", Chloe said, sniffing. "I mean, I'm a meteor freak, and Lex knows it, and my mother…." She paused for a moment, "and my father is my only family and he's overseas…" The sniffling developed into tears.

Clark leaned over, hugged her. He held her close as she sobbed into his shirt. He could feel Chloe trembling. _I knew she was worried about this but I didn't know it was this bad,_ he thought. He said nothing, just listened to her gradually choking-off sobs, felt her rapidly beating heart next to his. Her sobs trailed off, returning to sniffles.

"Chloe", Clark said gently.

"Uh huh?" she mumbled, still keeping her face pressed into his chest.

"I told you before that I'd never let that happen to you – never let you get stuck in Belle Reve – and I'm promising that again." He put all the sincerity he could into his voice. He reached around, hugged her again. "I'll come for you."

"I know, Clark", she said, lifting her face to look at him. Moisture welled in her red-rimmed eyes; she'd smeared her mascara. "And I can't tell you how much that means to me." She tensed; Clark could feel that she was withdrawing, so he released his hold on her.

Chloe reached into her bag and pulled out a tissue. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose. "But, Clark", she said, staring at him straightforwardly, "if I turn out to be….if my meteor power comes and it's bad…" she was unable to continue.

Clark knew exactly what she was going through. Getting a strange new power – you couldn't help but think some dark thoughts sometime.

"Chloe, I know you're worried about this", he said reassuringly. "But I trust you. I've no doubt that whatever your power is, you'll use it for good."

"But what if I don't?" she asked him, almost frantically. "A lot of the other people thought they could be OK but they turned bad." She tensed again. "Clark, if I go bad, you've got to stop me."

"Chloe, Chloe, Chloe. First of all, you're not going to go bad. It's just not in you." Clark told the little white lie without compunction. He knew from his own experience that Chloe had crossed the ethical line once before, selling information about him to Lionel Luthor. But he also knew that Chloe had learned her lesson about selling her soul to the devil, and that she would never do anything like that again.

"Secondly, you only know about the bad meteor freaks. There's probably a whole lot of people in Smallville with meteor powers who don't use their power or who use it only for good, and they never make the news. So, statistically speaking, you've got a sampling bias." Clark tried to put gentle humor in his tone.

Chloe's expression showed that she was unconvinced.

"You're really worried about this, aren't you?" Clark asked Chloe gently.

"How can I not be? Clark, I stay up late, I can't get to sleep, I wake up at three o'clock in the morning, wondering what my power is, and if it's going to manifest, and if so, when and where and how and why---"

"A true reporter – you worry about the five W's and How even in your sleep."

"Not funny, Clark", Chloe said curtly. "You can't know what it's like—" she stopped, momentarily embarrassed as she realized that he did understand.

Clark reached over and took her hand. "I do know, Chloe", he said softly. "And I know it's frightening." He squeezed her hand gently. "Chloe, from what I've been through…all I can say is that, it'll happen when it happens. And staying up late and worrying about it won't make any difference. All you can do is be prepared to accept it." He looked down at their hands, looked up, caught her eye. "And when it does happen, I'll be there for you. I'll help you. And we'll get through it."

Chloe gave a deep sigh. "OK."

"OK?" Clark asked. "OK, the next time you're lying awake at night, you'll say, 'it'll happen when it happens' and you'll put it away and not think about it?"

"Well, I'll try", Chloe said. "It'll be tough to stop the ruminations. I haven't thought of anything else, really." She turned to look at Clark. "Can I call you then?" she said in a small voice.

He nodded his head slowly. "Do you even have to ask?" he said. "I said I'll be there for you and that includes three a.m. phone calls."

"OK."

"OK."

Chloe got another tissue, blew her nose again. She essayed a tentative smile, a pale shadow of her usual broad grin. "So, before our unscheduled detour, where I was going with this…"

"Go on."

"Well, one of our weapons, so to speak, is the power of the press. You know, sunshine being the best disinfectant and all that. But there's a couple of caveats."

"What?" Clark asked.

"First of all, it has to be a sympathetic person. Nobody really wants to read about a drug addict or alcoholic wrongly imprisoned in Belle Reve." Chloe got the reporter look in her eyes again. "People already figure that when someone goes to Belle Reve in the first place, that there's something wrong with them and they deserve to be there. So that's the first stigma to overcome. The person has to be someone that the average reader can identify with."

"Yeah, I remember that series that the _Daily Planet_ did a few months ago about the heroin addicts – someone had cut their heroin with fentanyl and that more powerful narcotic killed a bunch of them." Clark sounded grim. "And people were writing to the editor, 'Why are you writing articles about a bunch of junkies? They deserve what they got.'"

"Exactly, Clark. Not to say that it wasn't good journalism and that the problem didn't need to be exposed – it was just that our readers didn't really relate to it."

Clark got up, stretched. "And the second thing?"

Chloe got up, too, started walking around the loft. "The second thing is that we have to have the moral high ground. So we can't write a scathing expose on the abuse or abduction of someone who really belongs in Belle Reve." She paused for a moment. "Wait, that didn't come out right…"

"I think I know what you mean", Clark said. "Remember those meteor freaks who escaped from Belle Reve and held my parents and Lana hostage? And you saved us, because I didn't have my powers then?"

"Yes."

"Those guys were dangerous. They belonged in Belle Reve. And even though Luthorcorp was getting them addicted to kryptonite-based drugs –"

"Certainly an abuse of medical ethics", Chloe interjected.

"– I personally find it, um, let's say, difficult, to care about them." Clark shuddered as he remembered the heart-stopping tension of those moments, when those he loved had their lives in the balance.

"Exactly", Chloe said. "What we really need, is a regular guy, who wasn't convicted of anything that would require him to be incarcerated in Belle Reve. Somebody who was wrongfully imprisoned there."

"Our friend Mike", Clark said.

"And we have to hope that Lex hasn't generated a false paper trail. That we can prove that Mike doesn't belong there." Chloe tapped a pencil on the coffee table pensively. "Lex is usually pretty good about things like that, Clark."

"You've told me before that Lex keeps his dirty laundry pretty well hidden", Clark agreed.

"But a good reporter checks things out."

"Right."

"So, Clark, I got all this information about Belle Reve. What'd you find out at the courthouse?"

"Um, Chloe?" Clark looked away, blushed.

"Clark….Don't tell me you didn't…." she said. "I slaved away all day and you didn't make it to the courthouse?" Chloe rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Well, I was going to go, and then one of the cows went into labor, and I had to call the vet, and he ended up doing a C-section, and by the time that was done, the courthouse was closed." Clark scuffed a foot on the floor. "I'm sorry."

Chloe sighed. "Well, I understand." She put a more hopeful tone into her voice. "But you'll get it done tomorrow, right?"

"Right", he said, crossing his fingers. "In the absence of any other bovine crises."


	8. At The Courthouse

The next morning, after chores, Clark drove into town. After stopping at the feed mill and running some errands, he went to the courthouse. The pillars and dome were a mini-version of the state capitol building in Topeka. Clark strode up the worn marble steps, entered into the vaulted hallways, built for a time with no air-conditioning, when coolness in the searing Kansas summer heat demanded thick stone walls and spacious corridors.

He walked toward the county records office. The woman behind the counter looked up. Clark's eyes widened and he gave her a big smile.

"Hi, Erin", he said. "How are you doing?"

"Clark! I haven't seen you for months! Still hanging out at the farm?" the attractive brunette asked.

"Yeah, I've been busy lately." Clark gestured at the shelves behind her. "I didn't know you were working here?"

Erin brushed her hair back. "Well, after we graduated, I waitressed for awhile, but then I decided I wanted to do something more. So I'm taking law classes at night, and the school works with the court to try and get their students jobs that'll have some relevance to the curriculum."

"That's great!" Clark was happy for her. "Are you really sure you want a law career?" That was something Clark definitely had no interest in – sure, apprehending bad guys was OK, but he didn't want to stick around for the cases crawling their way through the system.

"I wasn't totally sure either, but the more I get into it, the more I like it." Erin leaned over the counter toward him, lowered her voice. "What I hate are all the drunks and druggies. I swear it's like eighty percent of our cases are because of substance abuse. Drunk driving, burglaries to support their habit, passing bad checks, domestic abuse when they're high, yadda, yadda, yadda…"

"So you don't think you'll be a fearless Perry Mason, defending the unjustly accused?" Clark asked teasingly.

"I think I want to be the bad-ass prosecutor, throwing the lowlifes in jail", Erin replied. "I get tired of seeing the same people over and over."

Clark looked around, changing the subject. "Where's Mary? She's been here for years. Are you her assistant now?"

Erin became somber. "Maybe you didn't hear, Clark, but her daughter was in a pretty bad car accident."

Clark made a sympathetic gesture. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's one of the reasons I'm so down on drinking and driving. That's what put Mary's daughter in the hospital and really messed her up." Erin sighed. "Anyway, Perdita has been in for months now, and Mary spends a lot of time visiting her, helping her out", Erin continued. "In fact, Mary's gone to part-time. That's how I was able to get hired in."

"I hope that Perdita does better", Clark said. He didn't really know Perdita – he'd graduated from Smallville High before Perdita entered it. "I know how tough it is when you have a serious medical problem that…kind of takes over everything."

Erin gazed at him for a moment in sympathy. "Clark, I never did say how sorry I was about your Dad…"

"Thanks, Erin", Clark said roughly. Every once in awhile, an expression of sympathy would bring back all the grief and pain, rip off the scab from the healing wound. Clark swallowed, blinked back the suspicious moisture in his eyes.

"Actually, I'm here to look up something. Well, two somethings." He adopted a businesslike tone.

"Well, that's what I'm here for", Erin said cheerfully.

"I don't know the exact date", Clark said, "but I think it was between twelve and fifteen months ago. The first thing is a ward-of-the-court foster child placement." He only knew the last name – Reilly – but gave it to Erin. She did some computer searching.

"We have three Reillys – Bridget about six months ago –"

"This is the one where the kid went to live with a family named Hansen", Clark interjected.

Erin did a little more looking. "Oh. That's Rachel Reilly, age fourteen. That's about thirteen months ago." She tapped a pencil on the keyboard. "Nothing very unusual here. Judge Morandini signed off on it. The social worker was Glenda Wright."

Clark took down the information.

"What's the second thing?" Erin asked.

"There's a petition, or whatever you call it, for an involuntary commitment to Belle Reve for a man named Mike Reilly. Can you find me all the details on that?"

"Sure, Clark", Erin said. "Anything for a fellow Crow." She gave him a cheerful smile. Clark smiled back. He'd always liked Erin; she was an energetic go-getter and she'd been an occasional reporter on the _Torch._

Erin tapped her keyboard a little, frowned at her screen. "That's funny…"

"What?"

"Well, his name is in here, but the documents should have been put in and they're not." She tapped her fingers on the polished wood of the counter. "Now I'm going to have to go to the paper record." Erin sighed. "That's going to take a few minutes, Clark."

"No problem, Erin. I appreciate you doing it." He watched her disappear into a back room. Extending his hearing, he could hear the whisk of papers and file folders and Erin mumbling, "R, R-a, R-e, R-e-i, Reilly." Clark smiled; obviously saying the alphabet out loud while looking up things helped her find them.

Clark super-sped around the counter and looked at the display on the computer screen. Not very informative. As Erin had said, it basically gave a name and a date. He returned to his original spot. A thought struck him. He made the mental adjustment, switched into the Aura Detect-O-Vision mode, looking at Erin as she returned to the counter. He smiled as he saw the beauty, the complex currents of Erin's aura. _Green, of course_, he thought to himself. _With her name, what else could it be? _

Erin carried a legal-sized manila folder. She laid it on the counter and spun it towards him.

"Here, Clark. It was about thirteen months ago. A Dr. Caselli signed off on the 72-hour involuntary commitment papers." Apparently Erin had no trouble reading upside-down text.

Clark got a bad feeling. "Erin, I thought that just about any doctor could sign off on a 72-hour commitment—"

"That's right", she interjected. "Although most of them in Lowell County are done by just a few psychiatrists and psychologists. Dr. Caselli does quite a few because of his work at Belle Reve."

"But I thought that when there was an involuntary commitment, a judge had to review the case in order to extend the commitment and order involuntary treatment."

"That's right", Erin said. "Judge Morandini signed off on it. See – here it is."

"But isn't there some sort of review?" Clark persisted.

Erin got a pensive look. "Well, we haven't gotten to that part in the law classes yet, Clark", she said. "But, in my admittedly small knowledge, based solely on a cursory exam of the textbooks, what I think is that all commitment orders have to be reviewed every six months in addition to insuring certain rights to the committed." She paused for breath. "Including the right to contact outsiders. Also, a person under an involuntary commitment order has a right to counsel and a right to have the state provide a public defender if they cannot afford a private lawyer."

"So, if that was thirteen months ago, there should be at least two commitment order reviews here", Clark said slowly.

"Yeah. That's weird", Erin said. "I wonder what happened." She flipped through the pages of the file, looking for absent documents. "I guess the files could have gotten lost…" She sounded perturbed. "That's about the time that Perdita got hit by the car. Maybe Mary made some errors around then."

"I guess that's possible", Clark allowed, knowing how hard it was to concentrate on everyday life when one's loved ones were ill.

Erin said briskly, "Well, I'll put it here and bring it to Judge Morandini's attention—"

"No!" Clark said.

"Why?" Erin asked him.

Clark was momentarily flummoxed, then decided to tell the truth. Or a partial truth. "Chloe is working on a story for the _Daily Planet_", he said. "It's got something to do with abuse of involuntary commitments. She asked me to check out some Smallville info." He put a cajoling tone into his voice. "Please, Erin, give us a week or so. We don't want to tip off anyone before the story goes to press."

"Well…" Clark could tell she was torn.

"Come on, Erin", he said. "You know it'll look better splashed on the front page of the _Planet_ than just put in a judge's in-box."

"But what about Mary?" Erin asked. "She was responsible for filing this, and putting a six-month reminder in the file."

"It's not going to be Mary's fault", Clark reassured her, although inwardly he wasn't so sure. He knew Mary Daugherty, and she had always struck him as an organized, savvy woman who always had things _just so._ "A filing error? That could happen to anyone." He continued talking confidently. "It's really Belle Reve's fault – they're the ones who are supposed to justify an involuntary commitment." He wasn't sure about that, but it sounded good.

"Well…OK", Erin said reluctantly. "I'm only doing this because I trust you and because I know what a great reporter Chloe is." She smiled. "Remember when she broke the 'rats at the Beanery' story?"

Clark grinned a conspiratorial smile back at her. "Thereby contributing to its eventual demise." They both laughed, remembering the uproar caused by the scathing expose.

"OK, Clark, you've got a week." Erin picked up the file, re-aligned all the paperwork, closed it. "But now that I know about this, I want to make sure it's all kosher." She stared at him straight on. "If you don't come up with something, I'm going to make sure this gets reviewed. At least."

"Thanks, Erin", Clark said. He watched as she bustled back to the file room, heard her replace the file. She came back and wrote herself a note on her calendar, not trying to hide it from Clark. Obviously it was a "note-to-self" about following up on the Reilly case.

Clark said diffidently, "You know, I like that about you."

"What?" Erin said, looking up from her scribbling.

"You do care about doing the right thing." Clark didn't know how else to put it. He respected Erin for her concern about the possible breaking of the law and her casual assurance that she herself would do something to take care of it, right away.

Erin stopped writing for a moment, gave him a stare. "Well, you do too, Clark", she said, looking down. "I remember all the stuff you did in high school." Clark made a small noise of protest. "And I've been reading over some old cases. Gosh, Clark, you sure were busy." She raised an eyebrow. "I swear, you were at a lot of crime scenes. And the police were always giving you some credit in their reports."

Clark shuffled his feet. "I guess I just have a nose for trouble", he said, trying to downplay the whole thing. "Just lucky, I guess." _Quick, time to change the subject. _"So, I hear you got married?" he said.

"Yep. About six months ago You remember Johnny Valentin, two years ahead of us at Smallville High?" Erin smiled fondly as Clark nodded. "John's taking classes at Met U too. He's working on systems analysis and marketing."

"You guys sure are busy", Clark said.

"Yeah, we've been busy, and money's been tight, but we're working toward the future." Erin sounded upbeat as usual. Other than Chloe, she had the most positive attitude of anyone Clark knew. "Good seeing you, Clark." She gave him another smile. "Give my regards to your mother. I still miss those muffins you used to bring in to the _Torch_ on Wednesdays."

"Me too," Clark said ruefully. "Now that she's a senator, she hardly ever bakes."

"Damn that senator job anyway!" Erin said playfully. Clark laughed as he left the counter, waving to Erin as he departed.

**Author's note: Actually I really don't know anything about the legalities of involuntary commitments. I just made this all up. If you have real information about it, please post it in a review for all to see. Thanks!**


	9. Smallville Medical Center

Mary Daugherty fingered the beads in her hand, listened to the bustle of hospital sounds in the corridor as she stared at the motionless form of her daughter. Seventeen-year old Perdita lay in a hospital bed, her chest rising and falling, but making no other motion. With a sigh, Mary held the large bead between index finger and thumb.

"The Fourth Sorrowful Mystery", she murmured. "The Carrying of the Cross. Our Father, who art in Heaven…" she continued reciting the prayer as her mind raced, unable to attain the peaceful state which once had been commonplace as she said her rosary.

She mechanically moved into the decade of Hail Marys as she remembered the horrible day when the police had come to her door. Perdita had been in a car accident, and was in the Smallville Medical Center ER with a closed head injury. Mary and her husband had raced to the hospital, spent days with their daughter as her bruises gradually faded and her lacerations healed.

But Perdita hadn't woken up. Thirteen months, now, and she lay in a coma. The doctors had shrugged when Mary asked them when Perdita would wake up.

"We don't know", one honest neurology resident said. "We really don't have a clue." Mary had done some research after that; her hopes gradually declined as time passed and Perdita remained non-responsive.

_The longer it goes, the more complications, the worse the prognosis_, Mary thought tiredly. She'd gone over and over those thoughts before, couldn't stop thinking them. Thank God that Perdita didn't need ventilatory support; she was able to breathe on her own. It was hard enough dealing with the feeding tube and urinary catheter.

_It's not fair. It's not fair, _Mary thought, mechanically passing the rosary beads through her fingers. She said to herself, softly, bitterly, "Life isn't fair." She loved her daughter so much. Perdita had been her and Don's youngest, the most vivacious of all their children. To have that all cut off in a moment, in a shocking blow…it hurt.

Her hands reached the next big bead. "Glory be to the Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, so it is now and ever shall be." She paused. "The Fifth Sorrowful Mystery…The Crucifixion of Our Lord." She looked up; Perdita's room was at the end of the long hallway, and the afternoon sun streaming through the colored-glass hall window cast crimson patches of light upon the tile floor. A noise at the door alerted her; she put her prayer beads aside as Sheila, one of the nurses entered.

"Hi, Mary! How's it going?" Sheila said in a deliberately cheerful voice.

"Coming along, Sheila", Mary replied. "Can you check Perdita's hip area for me? I'm a little worried about the redness."

Together they pulled back the light hospital sheet, pulled up Perdita's hospital gown.

"Good thing you showed me that, Mary", Sheila said. "That skin does look a little red. I'll get the skin care team on it. In the meantime, can you do a little massage? Also do some range-of-motion exercises on her legs." After checking Perdita's vital signs, fluid input and output, running a moisturizing swab through her mouth, and changing Perdita's body position (Mary helped as best she could), Sheila left to return to the nursing station. Mary presumed she'd call the skin care team about a possible early bedsore and would update the medical record, by now a thick volume that had gone into its sixth binder.

Mary sat back in her chair and sighed. She knew all the nurses on the floor by now, even the floaters that only came every few weeks. The nurses appreciated the time she spent with her daughter, and the help she gave them in the arduous task that was caring for a totally bedridden person. Mary gained a new respect for nurses; she'd never known before how hard they worked.

The doctors still came daily, but their exams were more and more perfunctory as time passed and Perdita remained lost. Mary could understand; they were trained to be active, to do something, and there was nothing to do here but wait.

She recited her prayers, not really hearing them. "…Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amen." She had a strong belief in God, and had prayed for months now. Her catechism told her that God always gave an answer to prayer. Unfortunately, in this case, the answer seemed to be, "Wait."

The staunch support of her friends and family had been a tremendous help to her and Don so far. The nurses were so overworked, Mary didn't like to leave Perdita alone in the hospital, and her friends in the Altar Society of Saint Michael the Archangel Church took over the vigil three days a week so that Mary could go to her job at the courthouse. She'd been looking forward to her retirement, to spend time with Don. He'd planned on retiring from Luthorcorp about the same time, and they'd had plans to travel around the country in a RV for six to twelve months. Now nothing was settled, everything in flux.

Sometimes Mary wanted to scream in frustration. This in-between state was so _hard._ If Perdita would just wake up, they could deal with whatever impairments she might have. If she died, they could have a funeral, bring closure, and move on. But this _in-betweeness_… Perdita wasn't brain-dead; if she were, Mary would have donated her organs and taken her off life support. But scans showed there was brain activity, and Mary would not bring death to her daughter when there was a chance of life.

Mary's depression was worse this week. She and Don had had another fight, a blowup over some minor thing that was just a mask for the tension they both felt over Perdita. Tacitly, neither of them would talk about her, how Mary spent more time with her than Don did, their fears that Perdita would never wake up, the daily minutiae of her needs, the time commitment of being at the hospital constantly so that one couldn't do regular errands, the financial strain. _And not to mention stuff at the office…_Mary thought. She and Don couldn't talk about the big problem, so they fought about the little ones. God help her, today, Mary actually had the traitorous thought, _I wish Perdita would die. _

Mary stopped her mechanical reciting of prayers, shocked at her thought. She grasped the rosary tightly. _I can't go on_, she thought, overcome by thirteen months of sadness. Maybe it was the sin of despair, but that's what she felt right now. _I can't go on._ Tears welled in her eyes. _I can't go on. _

She'd been told that one didn't need to recite formal prayers, that the repeated words were only to help one achieve the proper state, that one could pray in one's own words at any time. Sincerely, deeply, desperately, she prayed from the bottom of her heart. _God, please help me. Help me._

She looked up, hearing a gentle knock on the door. She slipped the rosary beads into her pocket. The late afternoon sun behind the tall figure silhouetted whoever it was in a glowing red nimbus. Her teary eyes and tired brain played tricks on her; for a moment she saw the figure from the stained glass window in church. She saw St. Michael the Archangel, Captain of the Armies of God, the Warrior Angel, surrounded by his wings of red fire. He brandished his sword, the weapon raised to fight the forces of Hell.

"Mrs. Daugherty?"

The figure – a man - moved into the room, out of the sunbeam. The red aura faded. Mary could see his features now, see that his arm was raised to knock on the door. She blinked the tears from her eyes, put a deliberately cheerful smile on her face.

"Clark Kent," Mary said. "I haven't seen _you _in a long time. Hello."


	10. More at the SMC

"Clark Kent. I haven't seen you in a long time. Hello!"

"Hello." He leaned over, shook hands. "I'm sorry to hear about Perdita. I didn't know she'd been in an accident till I spoke with Erin at the courthouse…I guess it must have happened about the time my Dad passed away and I'm sorry…" Clark trailed off, not really sure what to say.

"Of course, Clark. I understand." Mary did, actually. He had an excuse better than many of her previous so-called friends who hadn't come, or who made promises to come that they didn't keep. Dealing with a situation like this made it obvious who your true friends were.

"Can I do anything?" Clark offered.

"Would you mind sitting with her for a moment while I visit the powder room?" Mary asked him. She needed to wipe her tears, blow her nose, get herself ready to talk with someone.

"Sure." Clark parked himself in the room's other chair as Mary went down the hall to the visitor's restroom. He looked at Perdita, lying so still in her bed, her eyes closed, hair cut short for ease of care. With a tinge of guilty curiosity, he slipped into X-ray vision mode and scanned Perdita. Things looked different from seeing a person who was mobile. The lungs seemed more collapsed, thicker somehow; Clark wasn't really sure, but he was concerned about an area of density in the right middle lung lobe – _could that be beginning pneumonia?_

Another thought struck him. _I need all the practice I can get. _He switched into what he was beginning to think of as his aura-sight. He looked at Perdita and frowned.

Perdita's aura was wrong. It seemed as if it should have been blue-ish, like Chloe's, maybe with its own unique color or whatever that made it specifically Perdita's. But instead, it was fading into black at the edges. The complex swirls seemed simpler than they should, and the usual well-delineated boundaries were fuzzy, inchoate, and had random tendrils shooting off in all directions. What bothered Clark the most was something he couldn't put into words later on when he described it for Chloe. The best he could say was "It was like her aura wasn't…_connected_. Like it wasn't attached, or something."

He heard a noise at the door, and looked up, inadvertently staying in aura-vision as he looked at Mary. He hadn't seen anything like this before; her aura was a deep red, the complex patterns swirling and moving as usual, but the swirls seemed slow and heavy. Clark, surprised, snapped back into regular vision, and saw Mary trudging back into the room, shoulders bowed, posture hunched as if to ward off another blow from fate.

She put on a brave smile as she sat down in her chair, across Perdita's bed from Clark.

"Well, Clark, what's up? How's your mother doing?"

"She's fine, Mrs. D. Everything's OK on the farm." He deliberately didn't ask her how she was doing; the answer was obvious. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"It's about a file at the courthouse."

Mary leaned back in her chair, her voice gaining a cool tone. "I deal with a lot of files."

"Mrs. D, you do. And I've been in enough police reports, and gone to you enough times looking up stuff, that I know you're….you're crackerjack."

Mary smiled at the artless compliment, but worry coiled in her gut.

Clark continued. "I was looking up a involuntary commitment on a man called Mike Reilly and I don't see any orders for review." He looked at her closely. Was that a flash of fear in her eyes? "He's been in Belle Reve for over a year now and there should be at least two six-month reviews, but they're not in his file." He looked more closely. She knew something.

"Clark…Clark, I'm afraid I don't remember anything about that without the file in front of me." She fidgeted in her chair.

Clark could tell Mary was lying. Alerted by her eyes, he'd automatically adjusted his hearing to her heartbeat; it sped up as she made her statement.

"If it's over a year, that's about the time that Perdita had her accident, and I've been preoccupied." Mary took a deep breath. She hoped she could convince Clark Kent. She did remember that commitment order, and several others as well.

Clark looked at her for a moment, saying nothing.

She babbled on. "But, if you're finding something, I'll be at the courthouse tomorrow, so why don't you come and show me there?"

Clark remained silent a moment longer before he said, "I won't be able to come to town tomorrow; I have to be at the farm all day."

"Clark, I don't mean to be rude about this, but I really can't think about work when I'm here." She gestured at Perdita.

Clark's face softened. "I understand", he said.

"I work Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays", Mary said. "Can you come on one of those days?" _Preferably not for the next month?_ she thought. "I can take care of whatever it is then. Or maybe Erin can."

"Erin said to ask you", Clark said. He shrugged. "I'll come in when I can." Visibly changing the subject, he looked down at Perdita and asked, "Can I do anything here?"

"That would be wonderful", Mary said, too tired now to keep up the pretense that she had everything handled. "If you could just sit with her for twenty minutes while I go to the cafeteria for some coffee..."

"OK", Clark said, trying to hide his unease. He'd been hoping that Mrs. D. wouldn't take him up on the offer, but now he was stuck. He didn't really like hospitals. On the other hand, he'd spent enough time in the hospital visiting his father after Jonathan Kent had his heart surgery that Clark wasn't a total novice. Nonetheless, he could tell that Mary needed him, and he responded.

"Thanks, Clark", she said as she left the room.

Clark just sat for awhile, watching the even rise and fall of Perdita's chest. He liked Mrs. Daugherty; she'd always been a tart-voiced competent woman with the proverbial heart of gold. _Gosh, she's really_ _aged a lot since I saw her last._ He knew her mostly through her work; he'd gotten to know most of the courthouse employees pretty well due to his constant presence in police reports, giving statements and depositions, and testifying as a witness. It wasn't like Lowell County had a large Sheriff Department and courthouse staff anyway; everyone tended to know everyone else's business.

Clark liked to think that he'd gotten better about doing his deeds in secret. Unfortunately, in his younger days, he'd been quite open about his presence at crime scenes, which meant that he got in the official paperwork. Now he'd prefer to go to the courthouse only to pay the property taxes on the farm, or maybe to pick up an absentee ballot for the occasional election. He had gained much more appreciation for anonymity. The ill-fated Sheriff Adams, before her murder, had urged him to consider a career in law enforcement; he thought with sardonic amusement that he actually did have an (unpaid) job there.

The nurse came in Perdita's room again, interrupting his reverie. He knew her too. _Is it old home week or something? _Then he realized that with his father's heart attack and subsequent surgery, his mother's illnesses, and the numerous admissions of his friends from accidents, meteor freak attacks, and other crazy circumstances, Clark actually knew a large percentage of the Smallville Medical Center staff.

"Sheila?"

"Clark! Haven't seen you around here for some time!" The nurse smiled at him as she washed her hands. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, fine. And you?"

"Keeping busy, keeping busy." Sheila walked to Perdita's bed. "I haven't seen you here since you…" she didn't finish her sentence.

_Since I died._ Clark didn't want to finish that sentence either. He winced, thinking back to the time when he'd been mortal, lost his powers, was shot. Jor-El had revived him, at the cost of Clark's humanity. He'd lost his chance for a normal life with Lana. It still hurt.

He'd heard from Chloe that the SMC were terrified that the Kents were going to sue them for malpractice. Declaring a patient dead, a patient who later walked out under his own power, was a medical decision that would be rather difficult to defend in court. Clark had heard that all employees were forbidden to discuss his case. Of course that didn't stop the gossip; the subject was just too juicy and too strange, but as time passed, the novelty faded. It _had _helped with keeping the story out of the paper. Little did they know that the last thing Clark and his family wanted was any kind of investigation into those bizarre circumstances.

"Um, yeah", Clark said awkwardly. "I just came in to visit. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Sheila looked at him appraisingly. A feline grin curved her lips. "Yeah, Clark. You work on a farm. You must be pretty strong?"

"Well, I toss my share of hay bales", Clark said cautiously.

"Hey, Clark, if you can help me here with the lifting, I won't have to call in the other nurse and we can get done a lot faster", Sheila asked.

Clark was OK with that. "No problem", he said.

At Sheila's direction, he lifted Perdita as she performed various nursing tasks. He tried not to look at the more private areas. He pretended that it took a little strain to lift her, but even if he'd been a regular guy, it wouldn't have been too hard. Perdita was a petite little thing, and since her illness she'd lost weight. If she weighed a hundred pounds now, Clark would be surprised.

Clark carefully set Perdita down on her side; Sheila adjusted Perdita's tubes and lines, and arranged pillows between the knees, under the elbows and other pressure points. "Thanks a lot, Clark", she said. "You made it easy."

Mary Daugherty came back, holding a cup of coffee. The nurse was leaving as Mary entered the room. Sheila said, "We're all done here, Mary. Clark helped."

"Thanks, Clark", she said, grasping his hand.

"Um…no big deal", Clark mumbled. He extracted his hand from hers. "I'll come back." He strode through the reddish patch of sunlight and walked down the hall.

Mary sat down in the chair, placed her coffee on the bedside table. She thought about all the times she'd read about Clark Kent in police reports, or in court transcripts. Somehow things always seemed to turn out OK when he was involved. Meeting Clark, seeing his sincere smile, feeling his sympathy, just being around his steady reliability made her feel stronger. She remembered Clark's father Jonathan; he too had had that air of being someone you could count on. Even though Clark was adopted, he seemed to have inherited that from Mr. Kent. Mary took a sip of coffee and sat up a little straighter. Somehow she felt better now. She could go on one more day.


	11. Again the Ghost

The hustle and bustle of the basement of the _Daily Planet_ slowly dwindled as Chloe stayed late working on her story. She double-checked a few items, then realized she'd done all she could.

She leaned back in her chair, stretched. Thoughts of the ghost _(Mike_, she corrected herself) ran through her head. Suddenly she had an urge to call Clark.

It took but a moment to pull out her phone and press the button.

"Hello, Chloe."

"Hey, Clark."

"What?"

"I had a feeling."

"And, Chloe, what is this feeling?" Clark continued the banter.

"I think I should hang out in your barn loft this evening", Chloe said. She turned to look at the glass entrance doors. She counted. _One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…_

At "Five Mississippi" the doors swung open and Clark walked in. Chloe heard him say, "I think so too." She smiled at him, closed her phone with a snap.

"Mr. Reliable", she said.

He smiled back at her. "I try to be." Clark walked to her desk, stared at the organized piles. "Not that I'm opposed to hanging out with you, but you sounded like you had a reason?"

"Yeah, Clark." Chloe felt a little nervous. "I don't know how to explain it, but I just have a feeling."

"A feeling. Didn't you say this already?"

"Yes. But this feeling is that Mike The Ghost is going to visit again."

Clark gave her a sharp glance. "That would be interesting", he murmured. "By all means, then, let's go to the barn." He glanced at her business attire. "Do you want to stop at your apartment first and change your clothes?" He, of course, was in his regular jacket, t-shirt, and jeans. Someday, Chloe swore, she was going to get him into a different outfit.

"If you don't mind." Chloe gathered up her gear; Clark picked her up and zoomed to her place. A quick change into a more comfortable outfit, another zoom, and they were in the loft.

"Coffee?" Clark asked.

"I don't think so. I'm getting a stronger feeling that Mike is coming soon", Chloe replied. It was true. Certainly she was no psychic, but if she had hunches like this in Vegas she'd be a millionaire. "Is the couch ready? I want to lie down again."

Clark hurriedly swept some clothing and papers off the couch. Chloe sat down, stretched out.

"Same positions, Clark", she said to him. "Be ready with the Aura Vision." She gave him a tiny smile, then closed her eyes, lay flat.

Again, Clark sat in the chair opposite the couch. Again he tuned his vision. He gained a new respect for Chloe's hunch when he saw the purple aura appear in the loft. Interesting. It did appear attenuated, thinner, not healthy. It reached Chloe, did not push her blue aura aside as it had the first time.

"He's here, isn't he?" Chloe murmured, her eyes closed. "I can tell. He wants to come in."

"Are you going to let him?" Clark asked. Despite his curiosity (and hers, too, he assumed), it was still an eerie thing to…to be possessed.

"Guard me." Chloe asked him, but there was confidence in her voice. She trusted him to save her if she needed it. A mingled feeling of love and fear washed over Clark. Love, in that she trusted him, had confidence in him. Fear, in that he would prove unworthy of her trust.

He stared at the auras. The purple again moved into Chloe's body, now not pushing the blue aside, but superimposing itself on the blue. Clark noted that the purple aura did appear healthier now. Chloe's body made a few random movements; her eyes opened and closed. Then, shakily, she sat up.

"Thank you", her voice said. But Clark could tell it was Mike.

"OK", said Chloe's voice again. Clark could tell this time it was really Chloe. "I'm letting you in, and the rule is that I control the body. Let's get that straight right now."

"OK", Mike said, somewhat abashedly.

"You're here to talk." Chloe was firm.

"OK." Mike sat in silence for a moment.

"So start talking", Chloe hinted.

"What do you want me to say?" Mike asked.

Chloe jumped in. "You said you've been doing this for about a year."

Clark, fascinated, watched the auras shift and move as Mike took control of the voice.

"Yes." Mike said. Again the auras moved. Chloe took over.

"So who have you, um, _visited_ so far?" Chloe asked.

"Well, I don't remember all their names", Mike began, "but I do remember some. There was Anthony Paglia, and Vincent Bommarito –"

"I've heard of them – they're high up in the local Mafia", Chloe interjected.

"Yeah, but I didn't know that at the time", Mike replied. "Dr. Caselli had me visit them for about six months. And then there was –" he poured out a litany of names. Clark belatedly got out a pencil and starting taking down the names.

Mike continued. "And just recently, I was sent to William Wambsganss—"

Chloe wrested control of the voice from him. "The other _Planet _reporter?"

Mike replied, "Yeah, I guess I didn't find out whatever Dr. Caselli was looking for, because he sent me to you next."

"So what did you do?" Clark asked.

Chloe's eyes turned to Clark. It was eerie, seeing them, but not seeing Chloe behind them.

"As little as I could", Mike said. "He wanted me to photocopy everything I could, or get into the computers and email everything I could find, but I would only send one thing, or tell him I couldn't get in, or that I couldn't find anything."

"And?" Clark asked, probing.

"So I've been trying to delay, to buy time. Maybe something would happen to get me out of this. I've tried to give him as little as possible."

Chloe asked, "Why didn't you just tell him to go to hell?"

Mike said defensively, "I had to give him _something._ My daughter…" he broke off.

"What about her?" Chloe asked softly.

"She's with a foster family. They let me see videos of her now and then. I get to see more when I bring Dr. Caselli more stuff. If I don't produce, I don't get any information", Mike said bitterly.

Clark had an idea. "Have you tried contacting her, you know, like this? With your astral projection?"

Mike squirmed. "Well, no. I don't…I can't…I mean, it's hard to get to her."

Clark and Chloe both asked, "Why?"

"If I don't know the person, I need something of theirs. It can be part of them, like hair, or nail clippings, or a blood sample. Or it can be some personal item, like something they've worn, or an object that's been close to them for awhile. I can't just go and find someone without some sort of…beacon, or homing device, or whatever. Without it, I would just wander around."

"But you know your daughter", Chloe persisted. "And she shares your DNA, so why not?"

"Because I don't know anyone in the foster family", Mike said forcefully. "And you see what it's like – I have to invade the body. I'm not going to do that to my daughter."

Clark and Chloe looked at each other in realization. Clark could tell that like him, she was thinking, _Eww, that would be sort of like incest._

Mike continued. "In fact…" he trailed off.

"What?"

"You're the first woman I've, um, visited. Everyone else has been a guy."

Chloe sat back in surprise for a moment. Then she smiled. "What do you think?"

She relinquished control of the body to Mike. He lifted Chloe's arms, moved her leg forward, looked up and down at the body. One hand rose to touch Chloe's breasts.

Clark frowned. _Watch where you're putting those hands, buster_, he thought.

"Well, it's different from the inside, that's for sure!" Mike said. He got a pensive expression as he asked Clark, "Was that how you knew it wasn't your friend? Did I seem different?"

"Yes", Clark agreed, shortly. He didn't want Mike to start thinking about how it was that Clark could tell, and what strange powers Clark had that allowed him to hurt Mike's astral body. To keep Mike from asking questions, Clark asked a question of his own.

"You said that you needed something of someone's to find them. What did you have of Chloe's?"

"They gave me a coffee cup", Mike replied. "It was yellow and red, and it said 'Smallville Crows' on it."

Chloe wrested back control of the voice with a curse. "Damn them! That was my favorite coffee cup." She slapped her hand on the surface of the wooden trunk. "It disappeared from my desk at the _Planet_ last week. I thought somebody broke it and just threw it in the wastebasket without telling me."

"Do you know who could have taken it?" Clark asked.

"Who couldn't have?" Chloe replied disgustedly. "You've been there, Clark. You know how many people go through that office in a day."

Clark nodded. The controlled chaos in the _Planet_ basement was not conducive to counting noses.

"I didn't need it the second time, though", Mike volunteered.

"What?" Clark asked.

Mike explained. "Once I've been in somebody, I can find them again."

"_That's_ interesting", Chloe said slowly. "So there's some sort of psychic connection between us?"

"I don't really know. All the other times, when I visited, the people were asleep, or they were awake and I couldn't get in." Mike sounded interested too. "I've never spoken with someone before like this, you know, shared the body and all."

Mike's statements raised a host of questions in Clark. "You couldn't get in?" he asked.

"Yeah. I've done some thinking. What I think is, I can only get in when the defenses are down. It's like I don't really belong there, you know, so I can only get in if they're distracted, or asleep, or something."

"But I wasn't sleeping this time", Chloe said, fascinated.

"She was awake", Clark said simultaneously.

"That's a good point", Mike said. "But I think it worked because I was here before when you were asleep. And…"

"What?" Chloe asked.

"Because you agreed to it."

Chloe was silent for a moment. "Yes, I did." She essayed a small smile. "I won't deny that it's sort of creepy. But this is Smallville, and weird things happen…"

Clark smiled at her. "And you want to get the story."

Chloe smiled back. Clark saw that it was her, not her visitor, in her eyes, this time. "Yep." Then Clark could see her get back on topic.

"So, those other guys you visited, if you couldn't get in, what would you do?"

"I'd go back."

That started another train of thought in Clark's mind. "Back where?"

"To my own body", Mike said.

"So, can you leave at any time?" Chloe asked. Clark figured that this was of great interest to her.

"I can", Mike agreed.

"But last time you said they were pulling you back", Chloe probed. Clark was curious about that too.

"Uh-huh. When I'm doing this, Dr. Caselli has me in a big room at Belle Reve, and I'm all hooked up to brain monitors and stuff. I don't know what it is he's doing, but I get this feeling like I have to go back. I don't know if it's stuff with the monitors, or if he's doing something to my body…" Mike looked sick.

Clark didn't want to think about it either. To be lying there helpless, your body being violated…

"Why don't you take over Dr. Caselli?" Chloe asked. "After all, he's doing it to you."

"I thought about that", Mike said grimly. "It took me a few months, but I did finally think about it. I did manage to get a hair of his. But I can't get in when he's awake. I tried doing it when he was sleeping, but I couldn't get into his bedroom."

"How come?" Chloe asked.

"I don't know", Mike replied.

"Do you have to be asleep to do this?" Clark asked.

"At first I did, but I've been practicing, and if I get into, into…the right state of mind, I can do it when I'm awake." Mike smiled. "As far as I know, though, Dr. Caselli doesn't know that. I think he thinks I have to be asleep."

He looked around, staring Clark in the face. "Can you help me?" he asked. "You're the first people outside of Belle Reve that I've talked to in a year." He raised Chloe's hands, touched Chloe's face. "You're a reporter. Can you print something about this? Can you get me out?" Suddenly his voice trembled. "Please. Please help me."


	12. Meet Lex Luthor

Dr. Caselli stared at the rich furnishings as his security escort led him into Lex Luthor's office. The clean lines and classic simplicity of the glass desk told their tale of understated European elegance. The modern style should have conflicted with the antiquities displayed on the walls and on small stands throughout the room, but somehow combined into a harmonious whole. Automatically he scanned the room, looking for interesting information on the laptop or papers on the desk. Alas, Lex Luthor's secretive personality, or cautious working habits, had led him to clear away any items of interest.

He'd been here before, of course. Tony Caselli had been working with Lex Luthor for almost three years now. Lex had first come to his attention (personally, not just as the tabloid Lex Luthor, billionaire) when Lex had been committed to Belle Reve suffering a so-called psychotic break. Dr. Caselli made it his business to find out the unspoken subtext behind involuntary committals, and he'd hit the jackpot here.

A Luthorian father-son Freudian conflict, the stakes raised by the billions of dollars at stake as well as the sheer power inherent in controlling Luthorcorp. Tony kept his ear to the ground and his internal connections well-greased, and heard some things that didn't make it into the official record. Things like the illegal and unethical electroshock treatment administered by Lionel Luthor's pet doctor, without the usual anesthesia support team. Things like the fact that doctors who defied the wishes of the Luthors tended to be shunted aside, passed over for promotion, didn't get the good positions, and even tended to die a little more frequently than one would expect.

A little more became clear to Caselli when Lionel Luthor was indicted for, tried, and convicted of murder. Did Lex need to forget something – hence the electroshock? The memories were lost now, that was for sure. But a few months after Lex got out, his own men were carefully scouting Belle Reve. They asked oh-so-casual questions, interviewed people in an offhand way, and generally didn't make waves.

But he knew. Mama Caselli hadn't raised any fools. Lex Luthor was trying to regain the lost memories of his stay. Failing that, Lex Luthor wanted information about Belle Reve. Knowledge is power, and Lex Luthor didn't intend to be powerless, trapped, an involuntary inmate of the Belle Reve asylum again. Dr. Caselli had made overtures to Lex's men; they'd made careful responses, and in a slow minuet, the two parties had gradually come to an agreement.

Now Tony Caselli met with Lex Luthor at least once a month. He kept his…his patron…updated on what was happening there – people, events, protocols. In return, Lex gave him a nice little sum, totally untaxed and off the books. It had been a mutually profitable relationship.

In the last year or so Lex had become quite interested in the inmates with meteor powers. There was some weird stuff going on there, that was for sure, thought the doctor. He'd never have believed that exposure to rocks – to rocks! would have caused people to develop strange abilities. But he couldn't argue with the facts. Over the past seven years, he'd seen stuff as crazy as a shapeshifting girl, a man who could take electrical power and mold it into a physical weapon, and a boy who could supposedly split himself into two bodies. (He doubted that last one – the boy had never done it in Belle Reve. No evidence, and then the boy had mysteriously gotten out of the secure wing and died one evening).

Dr. Caselli looked up as another person walked into the room.

"Dr. Donovan", he said, greeting them with a handshake.

"Dr. Caselli", the man replied in an Irish accent. "What do you think of this weather?"

"I'm ready for some cooler weather", Caselli replied, joining in the small talk. "Of course, there's always the tornado risk. A few years ago a twister came through and did a lot of damage."

"I haven't seen a Kansas tornado yet, and I don't want to", Dr. Donovan said, smiling.

They avoided asking each other_, "How are things going? What are you doing?" _Neither of them wanted to talk about it in the absence of Lex Luthor. Caselli knew that the other man was doing some sort of project involving the meteor freaks – something that called for intensive monitoring of a few, body scans of most, and what he thought were probably illegal DNA extractions from all. He'd done a little quiet investigating, and there were no informed consent signatures in the patient files. In fact, there weren't any records of procedures he _knew _had been done on certain meteor-infected individuals.

He wasn't one to throw stones, though, from his glass house. He figured that Donovan knew that he, Caselli, was the one who made the meteor freaks available in the first place. It was strictly a cash transaction. Caselli knew why they were there, and why the new ones came in. If things seemed interesting, he notified Lex. A few times, when there'd been an inmate with an especially unusual manifestation of a meteor power, Caselli had gotten a little extra in his envelope. That only gave him more incentive to keep his eyes open for the next one.

Caselli was getting a little concerned, though. Giving information was one thing. It had plausible deniability. But lately, Lex had somehow manipulated him into transferring patients to other facilities. Caselli didn't want to know what went on at these other places – it was better not to. But the bad part was that Caselli had to sign his name. There was a record.

Sure, there'd been more money. And that was a good thing, because Tony Caselli owed some money to some people who didn't follow the restrictions on the Fair Credit Reporting Act and the Truth In Collection Act. In fact, these were the kind of people that you really didn't want to owe a lot of money to. And Tony owed. A lot.

And that made it hard to say no to Lex Luthor when the bald billionaire had asked him – so politely! – to arrange patient transfers. Caselli thought about it for about five seconds. He thought about the mysterious death of Dr. Claire Foster who had tried to defy Lionel Luthor. He thought about patient disappearances, those patients who might have been an embarrassment to Luthorcorp. And he thought about more money in his enveloped. And right away, he'd said yes to Lex.

He and Donovan continued making idle chitchat for a few moments. They stopped as the office door opened and Lex entered. As ever, Caselli was struck by the physical presence of the man. He was not particularly tall or particularly handsome, yet he had an air of importance, an air of command about him.

"Doctors", Lex Luthor said. The three met in the middle of the room, shook hands. Lex's security chief followed, unacknowledged by the other participants, a silent shadow.

Lex sat down at his desk, gesturing the other men to chairs. Caselli and Donovan sat as the security man took up an unobtrusive listening post off to the side.

"Let's get right to it, gentlemen", Lex said. "Dr. Donovan, will you go first?"

"Three new DNA samples for evaluation this week", the Irishman said. Unfortunately, two of the three are from latent meteor-infecteds, so we have no idea what abilities might manifest. The samples are undergoing sequencing and relationship matching to known-ability DNA."

"And the third?" Lex asked intently.

"From a woman currently housed in Belle Reve", Dr. Donovan said, gesturing to Caselli.

"She's reported to be a telekinetic", Tony said. "So far she hasn't demonstrated that ability."

"Have you tried the usual incentives?" Lex asked.

"She's not buying the help-science plea and she doesn't have any known family or associates to use for leverage." Dr. Caselli sounded a little embarrassed. "She still thinks her stay is temporary. I think she's holding out for money."

"Well, promise her anything," Lex Luthor said, briefly flashing a predatory smile.

Dr. Caselli nodded.

"And what else is happening on your end?" Lex asked him.

"Nineteen confirmed so far this year, as you know, Mr. Luthor." Caselli pulled a slip of paper from his briefcase, referred to it. "Of these, we have repeatability on seven. This includes the ultra-speed, the enhanced strength, the light-bending field" _(just call it invisibility and be done_, Caselli thought) "the electrical force beams, the semi-invulnerability, some success in control of hive insects, and levitation, although the latter is limited to masses of less than three kilograms."

"Dr. Donovan", Lex asked the rhetorical question, "just confirming that you have complete DNA extractions and are starting amplification and copying of these samples? And you have the protocols for activating these abilities?"

The older man only nodded.

Lex turned back to Dr. Caselli and asked, "What about ongoing work?"

"Well, as I said before, our telekinetic is holding out. Maybe she'll do better if properly incentivized." All three men gave a brief smile.

"Mr. Brown is working well with us now that his family has been taken care of", said Caselli. "Unfortunately, his ability seems fairly innocuous – he's able to turn his right hand into what looks like rock."

"Right hand only?" Lex asked.

"So far that's all we've seen. Of course, I'd leave that up to you and Dr. Donovan" he gave a nod to the other medic, "as to how useful that ability will be to you."

Lex stared into space a moment, calculating.

"For now, keep up the experimental protocol. Let me know the full range of data on the change and the properties of the changed limb. If the ability becomes greater, or changes, let me know immediately." As usual, Lex made a quick decision.

"We haven't made much progress on the other…patients…since our last meeting", Dr. Caselli said. "We're continuing trials, and the data gathered are analyzed superficially at Belle Reve, and sent to Dr. Donovan for further analysis."

"James?" Lex turned to look at Dr. Donovan.

"Not much change", the white-haired man said. "We're in the tedious foundation-building stage right now." He paused to roll a pen between his fingers. "We are making progress with the data analysis on our astral projector."

"How's that coming?" Lex asked. Dr. Caselli remembered – Lex Luthor had seemed very interested in this particular ability.

Donovan looked at Caselli, tossing him the conversational ball. The latter stepped up to the plate and said, "Per your instructions, sir, we've been sending him on missions to selected targets. There is full data capture capability in his…um…mission suite, and each run generates quite a bit of information."

Donovan interjected. "I feel certain that we will have repeatability on this meteor power in three months."

Lex leaned back in his chair, a brief expression of satisfaction crossing his face.

To Caselli's dismay, Donovan kept on talking. "We might be able to hasten that timetable if we could get more data runs."

Lex turned to look at Caselli. "Well, doctor?"

Caselli grimaced. He'd hoped to avoid this part of the discussion. It reflected badly on him. "The subject is becoming recalcitrant. He's less and less cooperative with us. Unfortunately, this ability is one that must be engaged through the willing participation of the host."

Lex leaned forward again. "Doctor, I don't have to remind you of the importance of this. I'm counting on you to…engage his willing participation." He stood up. "No further information?" The two doctors shook their heads.

"Well, then Dr. Caselli", Lex said, "talk with Brady", here Lex indicated the silent security man, "and maybe," Lex's voice took on a sarcastic tone here, "he can go over the files and give you some tips on engaging the willing participation of the subject." With that parting shot, Lex strode out of the room.

Caselli bit back the stinging retort he'd like to have said. Fortunately, Dr. Donovan, having been on the receiving end of a few Lex Luthor pointed comments before, knew better than to say anything. He picked up his briefcase, gave Caselli a nod, and left the room.

Caselli looked up and met the security man's eyes. The latter approached.

"Dr. Caselli?" Brady asked.

"Here's our situation", Caselli said shortly, still angry at Lex's cavalier dismissal. "Mr. Reilly is an involuntary attendee at Belle Reve. We've been able to garner his cooperation so far by showing videos of his daughter, but lately he's been making noise about wanting more."

Brady said nothing but his expression was eloquent.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Reilly's situation is unique." Dr. Caselli sounded sour. "You've been at our meetings, and you know that he's our astral projector. So it's a little more difficult than normal to control his access to information. So far we don't think that he's contacted anyone on the outside."

Brady raised an eyebrow, a nonverbal question.

Caselli found himself responding. "His daughter is his only family and we have her in an approved foster home; his only friend is halfway across the world."

"But still you wonder", Brady countered.

"I would prefer to be 100 certain."

"I just think it would be a good idea to have some more video of his daughter, along with certain comments about how her situation could be worse." Brady suggested.

"Perhaps you could handle that part of it", Caselli suggested. "Mr. Reilly is getting tired of listening to me, and since I need his cooperation, those comments would be better coming from a third party."

"I'll take care of it", Brady said. He made as if to leave the room.

"And please check over his paperwork. I think it's all in order, but no sense in taking chances." Caselli had a particular reason for asking this. He'd been just a little too nervous to bring this up in front of Lex Luthor today, but lately he'd been hearing whispers from his informants. Some reporter was quietly investigating him. So far it had been very discreet, but Caselli had his own sources and he'd gotten the word that a Chloe Sullivan, a nosy b!tch from the _Daily Planet_, was digging around.

"In fact", he told Brady, "please check the paperwork on all these names." He handed Brady a list of those Belle Reve inmates whose admission and subsequent paperwork had been somewhat…irregular.

"I'll check with Legal", Brady said. "They'll take care of it."

That soothed Caselli a bit. He wanted to make sure everything was tight. He'd looked into the reporter situation. Chloe Sullivan was young, still a student at Met U., and only a "basement reporter" at the Planet. What set off alarm bells, though, was the fact that it was her investigation, her testimony that had sent Lionel Luthor to prison for murder. Caselli didn't want to make the mistake of underestimating her.

He also didn't want to bring this up to Lex Luthor if he didn't have to. The Sullivan name was perhaps persona non grata in the Luthor household now, yes? Also, an unspoken part of their deal was discretion. If Lex's interest in, and Caselli's unethical dealings with, meteor-infected Belle Reve inmates were splashed all over the front page of the _Daily Planet_, Caselli had a feeling that Lex would be…displeased. Lex wouldn't be happy to learn that suspicions had been raised.

So Caselli had quite a motive to check his back trail, make sure that his T's were crossed and his I's dotted, and generally tighten up loose ends. If there was no evidence, the _Planet_ wouldn't print.

And if that didn't work, maybe he could see about arranging an accident for Miss Sullivan.


	13. Introducing Rachel

Later that evening, still in the barn loft, Clark and Chloe discussed the situation.

"You gave the guy homework, Chloe!" Clark said, half-jokingly.

"Well, Clark, if we're going to help him, we've got to know what he can do. So he's got to explore the limits of his ability. So, a simple list of exercises…"

He gave Chloe a look. "How come you haven't done that to me?" Clark wondered.

"Clark, my reportorial soul would love to investigate the limits of your abilities", Chloe said. Murmuring under her breath, she added, "If there are any."

"So why not?" Clark asked again, ignoring her sotto voce comment. He was curious now.

"Two reasons, Clark", she said sharply. "First, you've been a good friend to me. I can't remember how many times you've saved my life. It would be a pretty poor return on your friendship to treat you like a lab rat."

Clark nodded. "And the second?"

Chloe smiled impishly. "Well, if I'm going to investigate, assuming I had your cooperation, I'm going to do it right. And that would involve a lot of test chambers and chronometers and scales and measuring devices. We could never keep _that _quiet. If we're doing it, we want to get valid data. You know, the old 'if you can't do something right, don't do it at all' motto." She looked at him, lost her smile for a moment. "I told you I'd never tell your secret, Clark", she said softly.

Clark leaned over, hugged her. "And I said you were a good friend, Chloe." He kept her in his arms. "That hasn't changed." A momentary longing, an inchoate wish, _Could we be more than friends?_ Clark didn't admit it even to himself. He loved Lana, he knew that. _But isn't it important to be friends with the person you love? _ A little inner voice nagged him. It was hard to be friends with someone you couldn't talk with. And, unlike with Chloe, he and Lana had never been able to have the easy conversations. He buried the voice, pounded it down deep.

Chloe wiggled out of his grasp, oblivious to his inner wonderings. "OK, here's the plan for tomorrow. You go and see if you can visit Mike in Belle Reve. I'll look into the list of names that he gave us of guys he's visited before, and look up the foster family information."

"OK, it's a plan." Clark stood up. "Take you home?"

"I thought you'd never ask", Chloe said.

* * *

"That bitch!" Chloe hissed as she returned to her desk. "She knew I had plans…"

Jimmy Olsen waited, standing next to Chloe's desk in the basement room of the _Daily Planet_. He raised an eyebrow at Chloe's thunderous expression and muffled expletives. "What?"

"Our esteemed editor, Pauline Kahn!" Chloe almost spat out. "She said she hasn't seen a lot from me lately so she just dumped a whole pile of work in my lap!" She slammed a pile of papers down onto her desk. "I swear, it's like she knew we had plans tonight! Now I'm going to have to be here till all hours!"

_Damn_, Jimmy thought. He'd agreed to go to Smallville with Chloe tonight for what she promised would be just a quick investigation. She'd wanted him to take a few pictures, then they would be alone, together. Now it looked like that was off the table.

Jimmy tried to plaster a smile on his face and look at the bright side. Darn it. There was no bright side. _Oh well. _He decided to do what he could anyway.

"Can I do anything to help?"

"Not with this", Chloe said, disgustedly, stirring through the large pile of papers. "Damn her!"

"Damn who?" a soprano asked behind them. "And why?"

"Lois!" Chloe said, hugging her cousin. "What's up?"

"Hey, Jimmy", Lois waved to him. She turned back to Chloe. "I was doing some legislative assistant stuff for Mrs. Kent here in Metropolis, and decided to stop by to see if you wanted to go out to dinner", Lois replied. "But something tells me that isn't going to happen."

"Yeah, thanks to a sudden boatload of work and a probable all-nighter", Chloe said sourly. "And here we wanted to get some information and pictures in Smallville", she said, indicating that "we" included Jimmy.

"Can I help?" Lois asked alertly. Jimmy saw her intent gaze and was reminded that Lois freelanced for the _Inquisitor_. "I mean, if you were going to Smallville, coz, it's probably a lead on something weird."

"You wouldn't steal my story for the _Inquisitor_, would you, Lois?" Chloe asked sharply.

Lois drew herself up. "No. You know I wouldn't do that, Chloe. We trust each other on that." Then she unbent, smiled. "But I know that sometimes you get some stuff that the _Planet _can't print – you know, those nasty rules about libel and having reputable sources. But, hey, the _Inquisitor_…"

Jimmy had to agree. The _Inquisitor_ didn't bother with time-wasters like fact-checking. That would only delay their latest updates on the "Elvis Is Alive and Working in Kalamazoo at the Burger King" and "Aliens Want Our Women" stories.

"So. I'll go with Jimmy to Smallville. He can get the pictures and I'll get the story", Lois wheedled. Chloe looked dubious, and Lois continued. "I'll get everything I can. You know me, Chloe; I can find out a lot."

_No denying that_, Jimmy thought. In the few months he'd known Lois, he was struck by two things – how much she talked, and how she was good at striking up acquaintances and listening to them. Paradoxically enough, for someone who talked so much, she was a good listener too. Jimmy had a momentary daydream – he was in at the birth of a soon-to-be-outstanding source network, all bringing information to Lois Lane, ace reporter. Then he smiled in disbelief – Lois, an ace reporter? Ha!

Chloe wavered a moment, looked at Lois, looked at the pile on her desk. "I guess I ragged on Clark yesterday about not doing things", she mumbled. Jimmy barely heard what she said; only a momentary lull in the usual chaos of the basement let him catch her words. He decided not to ask her about Clark – it was becoming a sore subject for him, the way his girlfriend spent so much time with the farmboy. Louder, Chloe said, "I don't want to face the wrath of Kahn."

Then she visibly came to a decision. "OK, Lois", Chloe said. She turned to Jimmy. "Jimmy, I know this wasn't what we had planned…."

Yes. It was a disappointment. But Jimmy Olsen hadn't gotten where he was by being unadaptable to circumstances. And Lois was right – Chloe had a nose for news, and there probably was a good story in this. And he'd be helping her. That had to earn some extra boyfriend brownie points.

"Here it is. I was going to go and check out the foster family of Rachel Reilly." Chloe pulled out a slip of paper from one of the stacks on her desk. "She's currently staying with the Hansens at this address." She gave the sheet of paper to Lois, pointed toward the information. "Jimmy, could you please take some pictures of the girl, and the house, and the foster family? We're going to need documentation."

"What's this all about, Chlo?" Lois asked. Jimmy was going to ask, too, but Lois got there first.

"You guys…um…I don't want to prejudice you one way or the other. Could you please just go and check things out and I'll tell you afterward?" Chloe seemed nervous.

Lois and Jimmy looked at her, looked at each other, nodded their heads. "OK". The fact they said it simultaneously surprised them.

Lois turned to him and said, "I've got my car right here, Photo-Boy. I can drive, if that's OK with you."

"No problem", Jimmy agreed, mentally thanking the gods that she had offered. His car not only was in the shop, but had a slight out-of-gas problem. He'd meant to fill it up, but he'd seen a new lens, and well, now he was cutting back on a lot of things.

He turned back to Chloe, gave her a brief hug. "I'll call you", he promised. "I'll call you and send the pictures." Chloe gave him a dazzling smile.

Jimmy looked back as he and Lois trooped out; Chloe had already turned back to her desk and was attacking the pile of paper with an energy that promised to defeat it in short order.

The trip to Smallville seemed shorter than it usually did. Jimmy had made it to Smallville before in as short a time as ninety minutes on good-weather days with no traffic. Unfortunately, today it was only a short time past rush hour, and it took them almost three hours. Jimmy didn't notice, though. Once he and Lois started out, he asked her about some articles she'd written for the _Inquisitor._ Her amusing stories took up forty-five minutes, then she asked him about his hobbies. She found that he was a ham radio enthusiast, and asked him a lot of interesting questions. Jimmy found that Lois had grown up on a military base and had a lot of esoteric information under her belt, among which was some knowledge of radio. They got into a fascinating conversation that carried them all the way to Smallville.

Lois exited the interstate and headed toward the streets of Smallville. "Turn right at the next corner, then left, then right again", Jimmy said, navigating from the helpful Mapquest information Chloe had printed out for them.

He looked around. Although Smallville didn't have slums like Metropolis, they were definitely in the less-good end of town. Houses were unpainted, lawns unmowed, clutter all around.

"Baltic Avenue, number three-forty-nine", Jimmy announced as Lois pulled the car to the curb. Just like on the Monopoly board, this Baltic Avenue was definitely a low-rent district.

Shouting from the house made Jimmy lift his head. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" a man's voice could be heard. Jimmy couldn't hear the reply, if any.

Lois was getting out of the car; she lifted up her head and listened too. Then the door to the shabby house burst open and a small girl ran out.

"Don't you walk out on me!" the man's voice shouted. A burly man in a dirty T-shirt came puffing out onto the porch. "You stay right here!"

The little girl looked back at him and said, "No". Jimmy could barely hear her voice. He scrambled for his camera, pulled it out, began focusing. Definitely an action shot here.

Neither the man nor the girl seemed to see Lois and Jimmy. The man's face was red and he seemed to be getting angrier. "When I tell you to do something, you do it!" he shouted at the girl, grabbing her by the shirt and slapping her face.

Jimmy managed to get the shot by instinct, stunned. It had been a brutal slap, a 250-lb man using his strength against what looked like an eleven-year old girl. Jimmy was no hero, but he couldn't stand by and do nothing. He set down his camera, walked toward the pair ---

Only to be cut off by Lois, who'd gotten there first. She had her hand on the man's wrist, the arm that had the girl's shirt wadded up in it.

"Don't you think you should let her go?" she asked, deceptively quiet.

The man shook off Lois' hand, grabbed the girl's shirt tighter, and pulled the girl closer in.

"Stay out of this!" he shouted. Jimmy, approaching, could see that the man was so angry he'd lost all sense. Jimmy smelled stale alcohol on the man's breath. "I told her to listen to me and she's going to listen to me!" He went to hit the girl again, and this time actually punched her. Her head snapped back from the blow; Jimmy could see redness on her cheeks.

_Uh oh. _Lois lost it. With a flurry of activity that Jimmy later tried – and failed – to describe to Chloe, she let go of the man's arm, and turned into a buzz saw of kicks and punches. When it ended, Lois was breathing hard and the man lay moaning in his weed-choked front yard. Jimmy really wished he'd gotten some photos of that.

Lois turned to the girl. "You must be Rachel Reilly", she said. Jimmy could tell she was trying to put a reassuring tone into her voice. "What's with the bully?" she nodded her head at the semi-unconscious man.

"He's the foster family I'm staying with", the girl said in a small but steady voice. "I wanted to go see my real father and he said no." She suddenly started crying. Jimmy figured she was starting to feel the pain of the facial blows. She definitely was developing a black eye. "Who are you?"

Jimmy looked at Lois. "Um…" It was rare to see her at a loss for words. Then Lois rose to the occasion. "We're here from the foster care agency. We're checking up on our foster families. It looks like Mr. Hansen just failed his test." Satisfaction tinged her voice. "We're going to take you to a better foster home now." Lois smiled at the stunned look on Rachel's face. "You'd better run up and get your belongings right now while he's still…um…"

The girl looked at the wheezing man, then turned and ran inside the house.

"What are you doing, Lois?" Jimmy hissed. "We're not from the foster care agency?"

"Jimmy!" Lois retorted. "There is no way I'm leaving that girl here any longer. That man was hitting her!" She turned to face the man, looking like she wanted to give him another kick. She restrained herself and said, "I'm taking her to Mrs. Kent for tonight. Then she can use her senatorial influence to get this kid in a better home."

"Are you sure she's OK with that?" Jimmy asked. Then he realized what he was saying. He'd only met Mrs. Kent a few times, but even from those short visits, he could tell that she was the kind of person who would be OK with Lois' plan.

"Yeah. I know her. No problem", Lois stated, confirming Jimmy's impression. Then she gave Jimmy a sharp look. "I hope you got some pictures here, Photo-Boy." She cast a glance on the man, still prone in the yard. "We're going to need some evidence."

"Um…yes." Jimmy pointed the camera, took some shots of the unkempt yard, the dirty porch. He reviewed the photos. He'd gotten an excellent shot of Mr. Ronald Hansen pretending to be Muhammad Ali with the unfortunate Rachel in the role of Ali's overmatched opponent. He showed the photo to Lois. "I think this will look really good – or look really bad – in court."

Further conversation was cut off as Rachel came hurrying out of the grimy front door, carrying a large duffel bag. "I've got everything", she said breathlessly.

"OK, we're on our way", Lois said, taking the duffel bag and putting it into the trunk of the car. "Be sure to buckle up." She turned and looked one last time at the man. He seemed to be fully conscious now, made no move to get up. Obviously he was choosing to let them go without trouble. Lois looked back at Rachel. "Say goodbye to Mr. Hansen. I don't think you'll be seeing him again."


	14. Pensive

Clark sat in the barn loft, viewing the sunset. He idly petted Shelby, running his hand through the Golden Retriever's thick coat. Clark liked to come here at this time, the day's work done. He jumped as his phone rang, jarring him out of his contemplative state.

"Hi, Chloe", he said, checking the caller ID. "How's it going?"

"Not good, Clark", she replied. "Pauline Kahn did a major dump on me at the last minute, and I'm going to be stuck here, maybe all night."

Clark sighed. It wasn't the first time Chloe had had to cancel one of their meetings. He looked forward to the day that Pauline Kahn retired – she seemed to have a positive genius for messing up Chloe's plans. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"Not really, Clark", she said. She lowered her voice. "I did find out some stuff, though. You know those names that our…spectral friend…gave us?"

Obviously she didn't want to mention any names over the phone. "Yes", he replied.

Chloe continued. "Well, I can tell you more when I see you in person, but you might be interested to know that, if these names are in chronological order, for the past eleven months our friend has been…visiting…members of the local Family."

"You mean the Mafia?" Clark blurted out.

"Yep. Up to about a month ago." Her voice took on a wondering tone. "Then, strangely enough, he visited one of my co-workers. You know, the guy who sits two desks down and one desk over?"

Clark did know, and didn't think much of, Bill Wambsganss, a somewhat nondescript basement reporter. "Um, yes, I know him", Clark said.

"And then, my name was the most recent on the list", Chloe said. "I wonder why the switch from enforcers to reporters?"

Clark had an idea. "It's got to do with Dr….with the person you're investigating", he said quickly. "What's that person's connection with the local Mafia members? Don't you see, Chloe, it's another lead?"

"I see it now, Clark", she said. "I would have seen it earlier if I weren't so tired." She yawned.

"It was about a month ago that you started investigating…um, the person you're investigating", Clark plowed onward. "I think that person sent our, um, friend to your co-worker to see who was investigating him. He found out it was you, and then he sent our friend to visit you."

Chloe sounded disturbed. "I thought I was being discreet in my investigation of Doc…of that person", she said.

Clark was alarmed too. "Somehow he found out", he said grimly. "Chloe, you call me at any time for anything."

She yawned again, a tremendous sigh obscuring her words. "I will, Clark", she said, her voice confident. "But with our friend…Clark, I think we have an ace in the hole that he doesn't expect."

"Doc...He'll know something is wrong when our friend doesn't bring back any useful information", Clark said soberly. "I mean, our friend has been here twice already."

"Yes, Clark, I wanted to talk to you about that." She yawned again. "I have another strong feeling that our friend is going to visit the loft again tonight." She sounded more alert. "And I won't be there."

"So?" Clark asked.

"So, can you do the honors?" she asked.

"What, you mean…" Clark said, taken aback.

"I know you'll be an excellent, um, host, Clark", she teased him. "Be sure to find out what he's been telling the doctor, and any other information you think we should have."

"Chloe…"

"What?"

"It's sort of creepy", Clark said. Frankly it scared him, being possessed.

"How do you think I felt?" Chloe demanded.

"But I was there to help you", Clark said defensively.

"Clark." She sounded firm.

"What?"

"You're whining."

"Well…"

"Listen, Clark. Mi…our friend is our friend. I think we've come to an understanding. He isn't going to do anything you wouldn't want him to do." She sounded confident. "That's the arrangement we have, and I know he'll abide by it."

"I know you trust him, Chloe", Clark said. "But you know...erm…once he's in, he might not want to get out." Left unsaid was the whole alien superhuman abilities thing. If something or someone was controlling him…what could they do with his powers? It had happened before. Chloe knew it as well as he did.

"Clark, now you know how I feel about you sometimes", she said tartly. "Somebody has power, and they can do things to you. It's scary. Sometimes you just have to trust them."

Clark, stunned, hardly heard her next words.

"Besides, I know from my own experience that if you really want him out, he can't stay in." She put reassurance into her voice.

He mumbled "OK", and barely heard her "good-bye" as they hung up.

His mind whirled. _Is that how she feels about me? Somebody that could do something to her? Somebody that __**would**__ do something to her? Without her consent? Am I that way? _Tension coiled in his gut. _Is she afraid of me? Doesn't she know by now that I wouldn't do anything, I would never hurt her? I thought she trusted me. _

He stared at nothing for a minute, feeling more alien than ever.


	15. Martha

Martha came in the yellow farmhouse, tiredly. It had been a rough day – first, going to Topeka and spending time in committee meetings, interspersed with one trip to the legislative floor to hear a fellow senator bloviate on and on. _Finish your speech so we can get to the vote_, she found herself thinking exasperatedly. Some people liked to talk just to hear themselves talk, and by God, today she was tired of it.

A full day spent on Capitol business, with a quick run for a Rotary Luncheon in Lenexa. She certainly knew everyone in Smallville (or they knew her) from her work on the PTA, the School Board, the Lowell County Chorale, the visits to shut-ins, the United Way campaign, the food bank, and the Crisis Hotline volunteering, but she'd only been elected to the Smallville Rotary after Jonathan had died. To her relief, she'd found that Rotarians in Lenexa were just as welcoming and generous as the Smallvillian ones. Unfortunately, she'd been the guest of honor, and had had to give a twenty-minute speech. Sometimes, unlike other people, she got tired of hearing herself talk.

She'd kicked off her heeled pumps as she drove home, gratefully slipping into the pair of athletic shoes she kept under the seat of the truck. Martha sighed as she looked at the gas gauge; it was really time to think about buying another vehicle that got better mileage. They could afford it now, with her senatorial salary. She really hadn't anticipated spending all the time on the road, going from city to town in her admittedly large district.

With relief, she slowed down and pulled into the Kent Farm lane. A tired smile illuminated her face as she saw Lois' car parked there. The younger woman's energetic personality always revitalized Martha. Then a frown came over the senator's face.

_Oh no, I hope she didn't try cooking dinner. _It was just the thing that Lois would do – she knew Martha would get in late, and she'd try to help. Fortunately, by now, there'd been enough culinary disasters and polite brush-offs that Martha assumed that Lois had figured it out by now – Martha really didn't want her cooking. At least not anything Martha was expected to eat. Lois and cooking – at least, cooking well – was an oxymoron.

_Maybe Clark put something on for me. _Unlike Lois, Clark had actually managed to pick up the rudiments of cookery. Actually, he was fairly decent – all those years of hanging around waiting for bits of cookie dough and homemade bread had rubbed off on him. He made jokes about how he couldn't boil water, but that was only to deflect attention.

Martha sighed again. If Clark hadn't cooked something, she'd have to get one of her frozen meals out. Not that she didn't have plenty of Mystery Meals stashed away from previous cooking sessions – roasts, casseroles, soups. She always made extra and froze a bunch just for situations like these. It was just, if Lois was here, she'd have to heat up the meal the normal way. No calling in Clark for the heat vision boost.

_I'm getting spoiled_, Martha chided herself. _What's the difference between fifteen minutes in the microwave and two minutes via Clark?_ She chuckled to herself as the answer came to her. _Thirteen minutes. _Having a superpowered son was definitely handy sometimes.

And tonight, she just wanted to take off her panty hose, sit down, and relax. She wanted to talk with Clark, just discuss the farm, and not talk about politics or the legislature. Martha wanted to hear how the animals were doing, what the plans were for planting, what routine maintenance jobs needed doing on the farm, what he'd done today. She'd always talked with Jonathan every night after dinner – they'd taken a moment to relax after a long day. She'd sip her tea, and together they'd just talk. She really missed that sometimes. Talking to Clark was good, but it wasn't the same.

Sudden tears came to her eyes as she remembered Jonathan sitting at the table, cupping a steaming mug of coffee. Sometimes she'd reach over and silently take his hand, just holding it, loving this strong man. And he'd give her a little smile, and squeeze her hand… She missed Jonathan so much sometimes. The way he'd come in from the fields, and see her in the kitchen, and get a big grin plastered across his face. Not having his razor and shaving cream in the bathroom. The lonely bed at night, unconsciously feeling for the warm body that should be there, then waking up, curled up, shivering.

The kitchen table talks were a big part of her memories. Years earlier, it had been the time where they talked about Clark, after he'd been sent outside to play before bedtime. She supposed parents were always discussing their children, but raising Clark had involved some…unique problems. Later, when Clark grew older, he'd joined them for the after-dinner bonding, and she and Jonathan had had to find another time and place to discuss their concerns about him. She liked hearing about Clark's days at school and on the farm, and was proud of him when he did something like use his abilities to save someone, but he didn't need to hear how his parents worried about him.

And talking with Jonathan – a problem shared was a problem halved. They'd been through so much, so many issues, so many things she thought they'd never get through. And yet, over many post-dinner cups of tea, they had made it past things she thought were unsolvable, unbearable. The big problems turned smaller when she and Jonathan talked. Martha had loved him so much.

And then Jonathan was gone. And now, half the time she wasn't home for dinner, and the other half, Clark wasn't. So her tea after dinner was often sipped in loneliness. And the problems seemed large again.

Martha wiped the tears away. She still wept at odd moments. It had been over a year since Jonathan's death, and she'd be fine for days, then suddenly she'd think of something, or catch herself thinking, _Jonathan would like to hear that_. Then she'd remember he was gone, and the tears would come.

She wiped her eyes again, blew her nose. _Not tonight. I'm not going to cry anymore._ She was looking forward to seeing Clark, having dinner. Even if he'd already eaten, Martha knew that he'd sit at the table with her. Their time together these days was precious, and each one made an effort to be with the other when possible. With Lois there – that would be more fun. The sniping between Lois and Clark amused Martha. Their apparent insults had a solid foundation of affection underneath. Lois would bring news, would be a breath of fresh air tonight. Martha figured that Lois probably hadn't eaten – she tended to forget – and Martha would be happy to heat up another Mystery Meal for her.

Martha picked up her briefcase (a senator-like, sober, leather one) and her pumps, and climbed the stairs of the porch. The door opened for her.

"Mrs. Kent!" Lois greeted her. She looked a little nervous. That was odd.

"Lois!" Martha replied. "Good to see you. Have you had dinner?" She liked to feed people – she couldn't help it, it was in her blood.

Lois ignored the question, gestured her into the living room. "Mrs. Kent, I realize I'm imposing on your hospitality ---" She trailed off as Martha saw the other occupants of the room.

"You know you're always welcome, and so are your friends", Martha said. It was true. Martha raised an eyebrow at Lois, then went to greet her guests. She'd get the story later.

"Hello, Jimmy", Martha said. She'd had Jimmy over for dinner with Chloe once at the farm, and she'd run into him and Chloe at a restaurant in Metropolis one time at lunch. She liked the eager young photographer, even though she regretted Chloe had turned to him instead of Clark. _Chloe would be a nice girl for Clark_, she couldn't help thinking. It wasn't everyone who could be privy to Clark's secret. And it wasn't everyone who would prove their loyalty through thick and thin the way Chloe had.

But that was no knock on Jimmy. Martha was pleased that Chloe had found a genuinely nice guy. He reminded Martha of an eager puppy. But knowing Chloe, he probably had unexpected depths to him.

She barely heard Jimmy's subdued "Hello, Mrs. Kent" as her eye fell on the other person in the room. A nervous eleven- or twelve-year old girl, standing straight, holding a large duffel bag. The small figure tensed as Martha approached her. Martha frowned as the child turned her head slightly and Martha saw the swollen cheek and black eye.

"Hello. I'm Martha Kent", she said quietly, walking slowly to the girl and extending her hand. "And you are?"

The girl looked at Martha's hand for a moment, then put out her own. They shook hands, Martha momentarily surprised by the feeling of a hand smaller than her own. That was unusual – she was used to greeting men whose hands dwarfed hers.

"Rachel Reilly", the girl said steadily. Martha could tell that young Rachel was unsure and trepidacious, but was putting on a brave face. In that respect, she reminded Martha of a young Chloe.

"Welcome, Rachel", Martha said, holding the girl's hand for a second extra. She turned back to look at Lois and Jimmy. "And I'm hoping you'll tell me the story here?"

They tripped over themselves to tell her the story. They'd barely gotten to the beginning of what sounded like an involved and convoluted set of circumstances, when Martha realized that she had to sit down for this.

"Wait", Martha said. "This is too much to listen to right now. Have you had dinner?" Her glance took in the other three. They looked at each other and all shook their heads. "All right", Martha said decisively. She gestured them all to the table. "I'm going to pull out some frozen meals and we can talk about this over dinner. Everybody wash up. Then, Rachel, could you please put out the plates and silverware?" Martha pulled out the plates from the cupboard as she spoke. "You'll be sitting there, Rachel." Martha pointed to a chair across from her own usual place.

"Jimmy, will you get drinks for everyone? The glasses are in that cupboard ---" she pointed -- "and there's milk, juice, and water in the fridge." Jimmy nodded.

"And Lois, will you go to the barn and tell Clark that we're having dinner?"

"Sure, Mrs. Kent." The three turned to their tasks. Martha looked in the refrigerator. She was in luck. No defrosting of Mystery Meals needed tonight, not with a big pot of soup right there on the top shelf. _Let's see…a few fresh tomatoes, and some homemade bread, and the cheese slices, and some preserved pickles, and a little of that cabbage slaw…_Martha hummed as she assembled the dinner.


	16. Clark Gets Possessed Now ?

Clark sat numbly in the barn loft, not feeling Shelby's fur under his palm. The aged Golden Retriever grew restless at the lack of petting, and shoved his head up into Clark's hand. Clark, startled, looked down, then began scratching Shelby's ears.

He'd been taken aback by Chloe's offhand disclosure – sometimes she was afraid of him. Or wait – did that mean she _had been _afraid of him in the past and wasn't now? Or did she still fear him at times? He hoped it was the former.

A change in the air snapped him out of his reverie. It smelled like a thunderstorm was coming, not here yet, but on the way. Clark thought back to Chloe's comment that she expected Mike to show up, and he made the vision adjustment to see in multiple spectra.

Clark was hardly surprised to see the familiar purple aura. It…floated, there was no better word for it, to the center of the loft, then hesitated, wavering uncertainly.

Clark swallowed nervously. Time to bite the bullet. He stood up, walked near. "Chloe couldn't make it tonight", he said, wondering if Mike could actually hear him in this non-corporeal form. He gave a wan smile and said, "I'm the backup."

He turned around, went to the couch, and lay down. Even if Mike couldn't hear him, Clark figured that he would get the idea. Clark kept his vision adjusted to "Aura-Sight", and saw the purplish, inchoate form stay still in the center of the loft. Clark swept his gaze past Shelby; the retriever was sitting up alertly, staring at Mike's aura, the dog's own golden-yellow fire surrounding it.

Clark looked at Mike again, and repeated, "I'm your person tonight." He patted the couch next to him nervously. "Come on in." Those were words he'd just as rather not say; but how could he let Chloe do it and himself be too afraid to? And Chloe had volunteered to be the guinea pig again, when she hadn't known about her ghostly visitor – not known if he was good or evil, or what he might do. Clark, facing his own invasion now, realized what courage she had shown at that moment.

The aura stayed motionless.

"I mean it!" Clark said. "Use me." He gestured towards himself, recumbent on the couch. He sensed the aura moving to him, slowly at first, then with greater speed. Clark gulped; knowing what was going to happen was harder in some ways than facing kryptonite had been. At least this wasn't likely to be as painful as a kryptonite exposure.

The purple form neared him, hovered above his chest. Clark felt that Mike was giving him the opportunity to refuse, even now. Clark set his shoulders as best he could. "Go ahead", he invited, and nodded his head.

Mike must have understood either his words or gesture. The aura slowly lowered itself down to Clark's chest. Clark knew what would happen next – he'd seen it in Chloe. The purple would enter his body, would spread along vessels and nerves, would fill his physical form. After Chloe and Mike reached their rapprochement, Chloe's blue and Mike's purple had been intertwined evenly throughout Chloe's body. Clark hoped he could be as outwardly blasé about it as Chloe had been. Even knowing that Mike meant no harm, Clark still shivered.

The purple approached Clark's own red fire, extended a tendril. It passed through Clark's shirt, touched his skin. Clark felt a strange feather-light touch, like nothing he'd experienced before. He searched his memory; the closest feeling he'd ever had to it was when he'd been developing the "Aura-Vision". He braced himself for the aura entry.

And the purple bounced off. Clark, still watching the electromagnetic entity, saw it rise and fall just a bit, then move down towards Clark's chest again. Once more, it could not extend its mesh-like tendrils, move itself into Clark's body. It was oil and water. It was reaching for someone's hand, then having them pull it away at the last moment, so you just missed them and were left grasping air. It was putting magnetic poles together so they repelled instead of attracted. It was an invisible shield.

Mike gathered himself – literally, as the aura had gotten a little shredded around the edges – and moved to Clark's head. Clark nodded once again and said, "OK". The aura edged its way, tried to get in once again. The same odd tingling feeling of near-contact, the same sense of missed connection. The aura staggered back, unsuccessful once again.

It moved a few feet away from Clark. If Clark could endow it with anthropomorphic qualities, he would say that it looked perplexed.

"I don't know!" Clark said, sitting up. Actually, he had a pretty good suspicion as to the reason for the failure, but no way would he say why. "Try other parts!" Clark extended his hands, pointed to his legs.

The aura made several more attempts, trying the abdomen, the head again, and even each hand. All were unsuccessful. At the end of this fruitless exercise, Clark had gotten pretty good at recognizing the touch of an aura, or at least Mike's aura.

He looked at Mike once again, and frowned in concern. Mike, or this manifestation of him, seemed paler, less vibrant than before. Clark had seen shredded, ragged edges on the aura before; they were there again. Clark remembered what Mike had said about being out of a body; apparently his futile attempts at attaining corporeality had drained him. Clark sat up.

"This isn't working", he said. The wan aura bobbed up and down, as if Mike were nodding.

"I don't want you to go without talking to you", Clark said, ignoring that he was talking to Mike now. What he wanted was for Mike to talk back. Clark gave the loft one quick glance. No, no change.

"Mike. Mike", Clark said firmly. He still wasn't sure if Mike could hear him or not. "You have to go home." The aura remained still, but drifted closer to the floor, as if it couldn't hold itself up against gravity anymore. An idea struck Clark. "Or you can get into Shelby there." He pointed to the dog, who'd fallen back to sleep after the initial excitement of Mike's coming.

Whichever it was, the words or the gestures, the aura understood. It floated to Shelby. Somehow Clark could see Mike in the purple. It was as if Mike gave a huge sigh of relief, then fell – and fell hard – into Shelby.

At first in fascination, then in concern, Clark watched the dog's yellow aura momentarily blink out.

"Hey!" Clark shouted. Had Mike hurt Shelby? Was Shelby dead? Clark could see no sign of the yellow; only Mike's purple spread over the dog's body. The purple extended itself awkwardly; obviously, Mike wasn't used to a canine form.

"Where's Shelby?" Clark leaned over, demanded an answer.

The dog opened its eyes, saw Clark, and made a weird half-whining, half-barking noise. It tried to stand up, but sprawled ungainly on the floorboards. From the way Shelby's head was bobbing back and forth, Clark was willing to bet that adjusting to the dog ophthalmologic sensorium was a major task for Mike, too.

Clark got off the couch, sat down on the floor next to Shelby. He supported the twitching body, positioned Shelby so that the dog laid on its chest, legs tucked under. Clark had seen Shelby take this pose thousands of times, never as uncoordinated as now. Clark kept one arm around the furry body.

Worry swept though him. Had Mike ousted Shelby in some fashion? Where had Shelby's soul gone? Was the dog dead? That would be a cruel repayment for the two times that Shelby had saved Clark's life. Clark vowed silently, if Shelby was dead, that Clark would…would…well, he wasn't sure, but it wouldn't be helping Mike.

Clark reached over, held Shelby's head in his hand, turned the dog's head to face his own.

"Mike, I know you're in there", Clark said. "One bark for yes, two barks for no." He looked again with Aura-Vision – the purple had spread evenly throughout the canine body, seemed to be meshing well. The body trembling and head-bobbing stopped.

Clark tried again. "Mike. Are you OK?" The dog gave a weird, unformed noise. Then relief spread through Clark when the dog barked once. Clark hadn't been sure that Mike would retain his understanding and human intelligence in a dog body.

"Is Shelby OK?" Clark asked. One bark. Clark let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The dog whined some more; Clark was willing to bet that meant that Mike had more to tell him but couldn't. That was OK; Clark would get the story at Mike's next visit. The important thing was that – if Mike could be believed, and Clark thought he could – that Shelby wasn't dead.

Clark got up slowly. Mike/Shelby didn't fall over at the loss of his support.

"Can you get up?" Clark asked.

Mike turned to look at himself, then gave Clark a look. Clark laughed. Somehow Shelby's – or Mike's – eyes were true windows to the soul. Clark had just picked up on Mike's incredulity that he, Mike, was a dog – a dog! - now. Mike/Shelby tried to rise; rear legs scrabbled against the smooth floor, front toenails scratched for a grip.

Clark leaned over, picked up the retriever, set him in a standing position. "Can you stand?" he asked Mike.

The dog wobbled but didn't fall. Slowly, cautiously, it extended a front leg; even more slowly, it put some weight on the outstretched limb. Then Mike/Shelby moved the opposite back leg. Clark had a feeling that Mike was having to think about how to walk. Usually an unconscious activity, all the reflexes were wrong now that he was a quadruped. Clark thought back to the first time Mike had invaded Chloe; one of the things that tipped off Clark was how Apparent Chloe had stumbled, hadn't moved in the way Chloe usually did. But the learning curve for a new human body must have been lot lower than it was now.

"Try walking over there", Clark said encouragingly, pointing to the trunk about ten feet away. Mike/Shelby gave him a desperate look, almost falling over as the dog's head moved laterally to see Clark. Then the old Golden slowly, carefully, set off. The stance was wide; the legs lifted too high, then set down with too much force, as if distance was misjudged; the legs wobbled. Yet Mike/Shelby continued. Once he reached the trunk, he gave a bark. Clark could hear triumph in it.

Mike/Shelby turned around – almost falling over once again – and walked back to Clark, moving a little more quickly this time. Clark nodded. _I think he's getting it_, Clark thought. He scanned the canine once again with Aura-Vision, having dropped back into regular sight while Mike adjusted to the body. The purple seemed much more "in tune" with its present form. And although still "weaker" than it was at the beginning of the evening, the aura was stronger than it had been just before it entered Shelby.

"Walk around till you're sure you're OK", Clark said. Mike/Shelby nodded – and wasn't that a weird expression on a dog – and set off down the length of the loft. Clark sat back on the couch, watching the furry body gradually grow more confident in its stride, slowly assume a normal gait and posture.

After about fifteen minutes, the dog came back and sat in front of Clark. It eyed the other half of the couch.

"Have a seat", Clark said. It was only good manners, after all.

Mike/Shelby looked at the couch, looked at Clark, looked back at himself. Then he jumped up onto the couch. Not in a single bound, but in a scrabbling, grabbing, scratching and clawing pull-yourself-up kind of jump. He made it onto the shabby, comfortable cushions, though, and sat himself down. He lifted his head and stared defiantly at Clark.

"One bark for yes, two for no", Clark said, feeling stupid.

Mike/Shelby barked once.

"OK, are you all right in there?" Clark asked.

One bark.

""Can you leave when you want to?"

A pause, then three barks.

"Three – what's three?" Clark said. Enlightenment struck him. "Oh. You're not sure."

One bark.

"You said before you'd have to wait some time before you…um, set out again?" Clark queried.

One bark.

"Well, if you're stuck here for awhile –"

"Smallville?" Lois' grating voice cut across his conversation. "Having a conversation with the dog?"

Clark grimaced. He'd been so intent on Mike/Shelby that he hadn't paid attention to his surroundings; now Lois stood at the base of the loft stairs, gazing up at him in a sort of exasperated wonderment.

"Um, Lois…" Clark mumbled, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Hey, Smallville. As long as the dog isn't answering back." Lois gave a sarcastic smile as she came up the stairs.

_If only she knew. _Clark said, "Not that I don't appreciate the pleasure of your company, Lois, but why are you here?"

"Long story, Clark", she replied briskly. "The short answer is that your mom sent me to tell you it's time for dinner. We have guests."

_We? What's this 'we' stuff? __**You're**__ a guest. _Clark, with an effort, swallowed the sarcasm. God, he'd been hanging around Chloe too long – he was coming up with zingers at the time he actually needed them, not two hours later.

"Guests?" he managed to say.

Lois looked momentary abashed, an unusual look for her. "Um, Smallville, Chloe sent Jimmy and me to check out a foster care family."

Clark tensed as he realized which foster family that must have been. Mike/Shelby remained motionless on the couch, pretending to be a dog and doing a good job of it.

"When we got there, the kid was being beaten up."

Clark paled.

"I sort of laid the smackdown on the beater." Lois sounded semi-apologetic. "Then, I didn't know what to do with Rachel, so I brought her here."

Mike/Shelby raised his head at Rachel's name.

"So now she's eating dinner with us, and your mother is going to keep her here till she can get a hearing in the Family Court", Lois continued.

Mike/Shelby turned his head toward Lois, tensing his muscles.

"Who is this kid again?" Clark asked. Given the circumstances, he knew it had to be…

"Rachel. Her name is Rachel Reilly", Lois said.

Mike/Shelby burst off the couch, barking loudly.

"What's with the furball?" Lois asked Clark, making little shooing motions as Mike/Shelby came near her. "Shelby, get away, I don't want to sneeze, get away…."

Clark took one glance at Mike's eyes. "I think he wants to come to dinner too", Clark said.

Mike/Shelby barked hysterically, raced for the loft steps, and promptly tumbled down the stairs.


	17. Dinner at the Kent Farm

Martha smiled in amusement. Jimmy's air of amazement at how fast a dinner for five came together was downright flattering. _Of course, he's been hanging around Chloe and Lois, and they're cooking-impaired_, she thought. Then she looked back at Rachel. Martha knew there was going to be quite a story behind this brave child, quietly putting plates on the table, matching each with fork, knife, and spoon.

Just as Martha finished setting the dishes on the table, with Jimmy and Rachel sitting at their places, their tasks completed, the door opened.

"Mrs. Kent!" Lois called. "Clark's here. And so is Shelby", she added in a disgusted tone. Martha knew that Lois didn't really dislike Shelby; she disliked the sneezing that came when Shelby was nearby.

"Hi, Mom", Clark said as he walked in the door. "Did you have a good day in Topeka?" Then he saw the other guests. "Hello", he said lamely.

Suddenly Shelby got everyone's attention when he began barking hysterically. He ran over to Rachel and head-butted her, then danced around her chair. Then, stopping the barking, but with a low whine, he put his head in Rachel's lap. Rachel smiled and petted him, tentatively at first, but then with greater confidence.

"What the…" Lois asked incredulously. "What's with the canine hairball?"

Clark ignored her, walked over to the girl whose feet rested on the rung of the chair, legs too short to reach the ground.

"Hello", he said. "I'm Clark Kent." He gave her the famous Kent smile as he extended his hand.

She smiled back, kept one hand petting Shelby, and reached out with her other to shake hands with him. "I'm Rachel Reilly."

Shelby gave an almost human moan, and shoved his head deeper into Rachel's lap.

"I'm very glad you're here, Rachel", Clark said.

* * *

The dinner was a success, as all Martha Kent's functions tended to be. Jimmy dove into the home-cooked food as if he hadn't eaten in three days, and Lois unwound a bit from her ratched-up tenseness as well. Even Martha seemed a little less tired as she relaxed with the convivial group.

The adults deliberately didn't talk much about the circumstances leading to Rachel's presence among them. Instead, they tried to engage Rachel in conversation about herself. At first she gave shy, one-word answers, but she became more comfortable and talked more.

"Rachel, honey, could you pass the tomatoes?" Martha asked. "Do you like tomatoes?"

"Yes, Mrs. Kent", Rachel said shyly.

"Have you ever grown them in your garden?" Martha asked. "There's nothing like home-grown tomatoes. I remember when Clark was a boy, and we used to have to plant six rows so we had enough tomatoes for him!" She chuckled. "I don't think you're that hungry tonight, are you?"

"No", Rachel said. One hand drifted down to pet Shelby. Only Clark knew why the dog had spent the entire dinner with his head on Rachel's lap. The others were mystified, especially Martha, who had tempted Shelby with bits of food, only to see the retriever refuse. Clark was just as happy that Mike/Shelby wasn't walking around; the possessed dog still had a tendency to wobble.

"What's with the dog, Smallville?" Lois asked. "How come he's not bothering me like he usually does?" Shelby's attraction to her was legendary, not only for the amount of fur left on her clothing, but for the velocity, intensity, and frequency of Lois' sneezing.

Clark smiled inwardly. "I guess he just likes Rachel better, Lois." Just then, Mike/Shelby looked at Clark. Their gazes met and Clark gave a small nod.

Martha got up, began clearing dishes. Clark quickly arose and took over the chore. "I'll take care of the dishes, Mom", he said.

"It's getting close to bedtime for Rachel", Martha said. "Rachel, we're going to put you in Clark's room for tonight."

"OK", she said softly, still shy.

"Time for us to be going, Mrs. Kent", Lois said, attentive to the not-so-subtle hints.

"You're not headed back to Metropolis tonight, are you?" Martha asked worriedly. It was dark outside, and a light rain had begun falling. "I really don't think you should drive so far in this weather." She stood up, faced Lois. "I'd offer you Clark's room again, but…"

"…you've already got a guest there", Lois said. "I understand." She gathered up her purse. "We don't plan on heading back to Metropolis tonight, do we, Jimmy?"

Clark could see that the direct question caught Jimmy by surprise – obviously he had been planning on that. "Um…"

"Jimmy and I can hang out at the Talon apartment tonight, and we'll get back to Metropolis tomorrow." Lois sounded confident. "Come on, Jimmy, get your stuff together, we're leaving."

"Um…" Clark felt a momentary sympathy for Jimmy, caught in Hurricane Lois. _Face it, whatever your plans were, they're out the window now. Lois is just that way. _

The two made their goodbyes and exited the farmhouse. Martha and Clark showed them out; as the door closed behind Jimmy and Lois, Clark queried his mother with a look. She sighed, and explained the situation. Meanwhile, Rachel still sat quietly in her chair at the kitchen table; the dog stuck tight to her.

As his mother bustled back to the kitchen, Clark debated telling her the story about Mike. He decided against it right now. It would inevitably lead into questions and statements that he didn't want Rachel to hear. In fact, there were some things he didn't want Mike to hear either.

"Rachel, do you have any pajamas in your bag? Why don't you come upstairs and brush your teeth?" Martha took over, years of child-rearing experience coming to the fore. "Shelby, get away from Rachel, let her get up."

Clark followed his mother into the kitchen. "Mom."

"Yes, Clark?"

"I think Rachel would feel safer if Shelby stayed with her."

Martha gave Clark a second look. There was that tiny change of tone in his voice, the tone that meant, _This is important_. She met Clark's gaze and saw him nod. She didn't see Shelby nodding back.

"OK. Shelby, come upstairs." Martha gestured to the stairs, and the dog followed her and Rachel as they went up. Fortunately, the retriever followed the two, and they didn't see him stumble on the steps. Obviously Mike didn't have the quadrupedal thing down yet.

Clark waited a few minutes, till he was sure that Rachel and Mike/Shelby were distracted by Martha's pre-bedtime fussing. Then, making sure that Lois and Jimmy were really gone (he'd heard Lois' car leave but right now he was feeling a little paranoid), he zipped into super-speed and cleaned up the kitchen. He had to drop back into normal time to wash the pans; the water just didn't flow properly when you moved that fast.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Chloe.

"How are you doing?" Clark asked.

"Still about an hour to go", she said wearily.

"I was hoping you could visit…tonight", he said. "There's a lot you should know about."

Chloe said nothing for a moment. "Is this regarding our friend?" she asked. "I was wondering…"

"Yep", Clark confirmed. He didn't want to say any names over a cellular connection.

"Is it urgent?" Chloe asked. Unspoken was the thought he knew she wasn't saying: _Should you come to get me right now?_

"No" said Clark, reassuring her, "But I'd like to talk with you tonight. I can pick you up, if that's OK."

"It's a deal", Chloe said decisively. "Let me just get these last bits whipped into shape. I'll call you when I'm ready."

True to her word, she called back about forty-five minutes later. Clark had spent the time finishing the kitchen cleanup at normal speed, now that there was no need to hurry, and hearing Martha read a bedtime story to Rachel as she tucked her in. Then Martha called down to say that it had been a long day, and she was going to bed too.

Mike/Shelby had stayed within two feet of Rachel all through the evening. Clark hardly needed his enhanced hearing to figure out that the dog jumped up on Rachel's bed right after Martha closed the door behind herself. Obviously Mike meant to spend all the time he could with Rachel.

Clark shook his head at the incongruity of Mike meeting his daughter again after such a long separation, but not being able to talk with her. Rachel seemed to like Shelby, but obviously had no idea of the true spirit in the dog. _I guess we tend to look at the physical_, Clark thought. It was only a fluky set of circumstances, and an alien heritage, that had allowed Clark himself to see past the body.

His phone rang, breaking his reverie. "Clark?" Chloe asked. "I'm done now, you can come and…"

Clark raced into the _Daily Planet _basement, heard Chloe finish. "…pick me up now." Fortunately, she'd put paperweights on the piles on her desk and the usual breeze of his passing didn't disrupt her work.

"Hey", he said, putting his phone in his pocket.

"Hey", Chloe replied, snapping closed her phone. No startlement at his sudden appearance.

Clark thought back to her comment earlier that evening. _She seems used to my…abilities, _he thought. _She's not showing that she's scared. _ Clark had mostly grown used to his powers now, but every once in a while some comment or incredulous look would make him realize his own strangeness. He thought about asking Chloe about it, but her voice distracted him.

"So, what's the news?" Chloe quirked her lips, inviting him to share in the irony. Here they were in the basement of the world's greatest newspaper…and the news they scouted out would never be printed.

Clark let go of his worries. Time to concentrate on the job. "I'll talk with you at home", he said, with a quick nod of his head to the nighttime cleaner who'd just appeared on their floor. "You got all your stuff?"

She nodded.

They walked out the door together, enjoying the coolness of the Metropolis night. Then Clark picked up Chloe and sped back to the barn loft in Smallville. Clark took a minute to listen while Chloe set down her items and kicked off her shoes; Rachel had fallen asleep, and Mike/Shelby was drowsing in the bed next to her.

"You're not going to believe this, Chloe…" Clark began.

"I don't know, Clark", she said. "It seems like I've started to believe six impossible things before breakfast. Every day." She grinned at him.

He had to smile back. Who was he to say? He was a genuine 100 guaranteed extraterrestrial space alien, with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men, who just happened to be best friends with an up-and-coming reporter at a major metropolitan newspaper. Yeah, that was a little odd. Some would say impossible.

"OK, here it is." Clark filled Chloe in on the events that had led to Rachel's presence on the Kent Farm. She listened carefully.

"So, let me think", Chloe said as Clark trailed off. "We've got the good news – bad news scenario. The good news is that Rachel is out of a bad foster situation."

"But the bad news is that it's illegal, and Lois is probably going to get arrested for assault", Clark retorted.

"But the good news is that we have pictorial evidence of Rachel getting beaten", Chloe said. "I think that will make the judge look more kindly on Lois." She laughed. "As for illegal – your Mom's a senator. Who votes on the budget for the Kansas Department of Human Services? And in an abusive situation…I think we can fight it on Good Samaritan grounds. Clark, there's a good chance the whole Lois thing might get swept under the rug."

"Maybe", Clark said, shifting his position. He wasn't as confident as Chloe was. "I think we're going to need a lawyer." Clark drummed his fingers on the table. "Our family always used Mr. Ross, but he's away on vacation this entire month."

"You'd think with all the crazy stuff I've seen go down, that I would know some hot lawyers", Chloe said. "But I'm not very impressed with any of the local guys." She drummed her fingers, imitating his gesture. "Plus, from what Mike's said, we might be facing the Luthorcorp stable of high-priced legal talent."

"Very likely", Clark agreed sourly.

Chloe stared into space for a moment. Then a light came into her eyes. "Fight fire with fire", she said. "Clark, the other side has their billionaire's lawyers. Why don't we get our billionaire's lawyers?"

Clark, taken aback, said, "You mean Oliver?"

"Do you know any other billionaires?" Chloe asked rhetorically.

"Well, only Lionel --" he replied as she made "no way" motions with her hands. "And, I know, he's not possible for this." Clark scowled. "I never want to ask him for a favor." He drummed his fingers some more. "In fact, I don't really like the thought of asking Oliver for a favor."

"Two things, Clark", Chloe replied briskly. "One, he owes you. You helped keep Lois from outing him."

"I think a few minutes in a costume isn't really repayment for a thousand-dollar-an-hour lawyer."

"Two", Chloe continued as if he hadn't spoken, "Mike has a meteor power. Lex is interested in Mike. Oliver is interested in meteor power guys too, but you know he won't put people in prison like Lex is doing. And Oliver would gladly send a lawyer if it means messing up Lex's plans." Chloe smiled. "Heck, once Mike gets out, Oliver will probably offer him a job."

"Well, there's that", Clark allowed, not able to argue with Chloe's logic. "Do I have to call him so late though?"

"You don't have to call him at all, Clark", Chloe said. "I'm making an executive decision. I'll call him."

"You?" Clark said in surprise.

"Why not? He gave me the private phone number before he and the other guys set off for Corto Maltese." Chloe had a triumphant smile on her face; if he didn't know better, Clark would say that she was gloating.

"He gave me the phone number too", Clark mumbled weakly.

"There, there, Clarky. Don't you worry your poor little head. Auntie Chloe will take care of the Oliver phone call and the lawyer. You won't have to worry about your masculine pride."

Clark smiled despite himself. "Hey, don't pull out your phone just yet. We've got to think about what we want."

Chloe looked exasperated. "It's not too hard, Clark." She gave a tiny hiss. "Get Mike out of Belle Reve, get him declared sane, and get Rachel out of the foster care system and back to Mike."

Clark found himself nodding.

Chloe continued. "We've just got to notify Mike about the plan. That's our advantage – he can communicate with us in a secure method that our opponents don't know about." She looked at Clark. "So, did you set up a time for him to come back? I'm hoping that we don't have to wait till tomorrow night."

She groaned at Clark's guilty expression. "What? You didn't let him in? Don't tell me that you wimped out?"

"I didn't!" Clark said, stung. If she'd known how much courage it had actually taken for him to lie on the couch, just waiting for the other to possess him…

"Then why do you have that expression on your face?"

Clark remained silent for a moment. Chloe groaned. "OK, Clark, out with it."

No help for it. "Well, you see, Mike might be…a dog…right now."

Chloe looked at him in disbelief. "A dog?"

Clark sighed. "Shelby."

Chloe looked around, noting the absence of the aged Golden Retriever. "Shelby?" she said in a dangerously quiet voice.

"Um…yes." Clark felt the need to defend himself. "He's in the house now, with Rachel."

"Six impossible things before breakfast", she muttered to himself. Then, in a deliberately patient tone, Chloe asked, "You were waiting for him, weren't you, Clark. Then why is Mike a _dog_?" She emphasized the last word, and Clark irresistibly flashed back to when he had revealed his secret to her. She'd been lying in a hospital bed, and she'd said, "When I saw you catch…a _car_…" She used the same tone in saying "dog" as she said "car" back then.

Clark said irritably. "He just couldn't get in." Annoyed by her cynical stare, he said, "No, really. I was waiting there for him, and he came – I could see his aura, you know – and we just couldn't, you know, mesh, or whatever."

"I wonder why not?" she asked, her curiosity engaged. "You know, when we…when you were possessed by the body-snatching prom queen in senior year, she didn't have any trouble taking you over." She grimaced. "And Lionel Luthor didn't have any trouble either."

"Lionel was an exchange, not an addendum", Clark said shortly. He still didn't like thinking about that time, trapped in prison, in Lionel's aging, dying body, desperately afraid of what Lionel could and would do with his powers. "And I don't know why Dawn Stiles could do it, and Mike can't."

"Yes. I sort of wish we could run controlled experiments", Chloe said pensively.

"Chlo?" Clark said tightly. "We had this discussion already, remember?" Frankly, the thought creeped him out. He'd been willing to do it one time, take one for the team, but getting possessed over and over…"Anyway, he seemed like he was getting weak, and the only other possibility was Shelby, so…"

Chloe apparently didn't feel the same way about being possessed repeatedly, or if she was, she wasn't showing it. "Well, if he's still here, we've got to see if he can, um, visit me again, and we can talk." She shot him a sardonic glance. "In some language other than barkanese." Chloe pulled out her phone. "I'll call Oliver. You get Mike."


	18. Chloe Considers

Chloe put her phone away. Oliver Queen had promised to arrange legal help tomorrow. They'd chatted a few minutes, but neither could say what they wanted to over a nonsecure line.

She sat down on the couch, stared into space. It wouldn't be long before she'd be…well, there was nothing to call it but _possessed _again. Chloe had put a brave face on it for Clark, but deep down she still trembled a bit.

_Why does this stuff always happen to me? _She asked herself ruefully. Chloe would bet that no one else in Smallville – or anywhere else, for that matter – had been possessed three different times.

At least this time she knew what was going on; that was a blessing. She didn't remember anything about the first time, when the obnoxious Dawn Stiles had taken over. Clark had told Chloe later on about Dawn's obsession with being named prom queen. All Chloe knew about the whole incident was that one moment she heard her name announced as prom queen, and next she woke up with her face throbbing, lying on the floor of the high school boiler room. When she found out later that Clark, also possessed by Dawn, had slapped her in the face, she counted herself lucky that she was alive. Maybe deep down, he'd still been there, and pulled his punch? That was also the first time she'd understood that the meteor rock would harm Clark.

No memories of the second paranormal invasion either; what she knew about the event all came from what Clark told her, and she got the impression that he was editing his story. Quite a bit. Hard as it was to believe, she'd been possessed by an evil witch from the fourteenth century. Clark had stammered when she'd asked him what she'd done while under the witch's control, and she'd let it go. It was probably better not to know. Waking up in a black leather corset was disturbing enough.

Chloe had only fragmentary memories of the third crazy event. A murdered girl's spirit, years dead, walled up behind the Talon apartment bathroom wall, began walking with the weird combination of lightning and a kryptonite bracelet. Others had told Chloe of what "she" had done – tried to commit suicide, tasered Lex Luthor _(too bad I don't remember that_, she thought with a predatory grin), tracked down "her" killer. Chloe found herself in an unfamiliar basement, tied to a chair, Lois tied to another. The vengeful spirit, taking over its murderer, forcing him to commit suicide, had attracted all her attention. Later, she'd seen Clark writhing on the floor, deducing he'd tried to save Lois and her, but that kryptonite nearby was sapping his powers. It turned out to be the meteor rock bracelet that Chloe wore, originally belonging to the murdered girl. Chloe had put it in her coffin at the girl's long-delayed funeral.

So, she'd been involved in three, count 'em, three, totally weird bodysnatching events. And two spirits had been homicidal. _What are the odds?_ Chloe thought. So there was good reason for her to be just a tad nervous about a fourth event. She'd been freaked out when Clark told her that it had happened again.

But this time it was different. The first reason was Clark. Relief washed through her when he told her that he could actually _see _the invading spirit. It wouldn't be some thing out of the blue; she would have warning. Then it turned out that he could actually hurt the other with his multiple-spectra visual powers. That was great. She wasn't defenseless.

The second reason lay in her confidence in herself. Chloe had tried "flexing" her muscles, her sense of belonging in her body, her singularity, her uniqueness. She could feel that Mike didn't really "fit" in her body; a deep rightness told her that she could push him out if she really wanted to. Knowing that she could, she didn't have to.

The third reason was Mike himself. Maybe at first he'd been just a user, like the other two entities she'd encountered. But as they shared her body, both using her voice to talk, she'd gotten a sense of him, a _feeling_. Like the reportorial feeling she got when a witness had more to say, or was misleading her, this feeling was something that could not be described, but was there. She'd heard a bank loan officer say something once to the effect that he could tell the people who were deadbeats without looking at their credit reports. She'd also interviewed many a cop and heard about their "cop radar", alerting them to the fact that something just wasn't quite right. So whatever it was, ESP or just a unconscious summation of subliminal clues, she had a _feeling _that Mike was an OK guy.

That feeling had only grown as he described his plight. The longer he stayed with her, the more in tune Chloe became with his emotions and attitudes. She felt Mike's loneliness and desperation as he talked about his daughter, trapped where he couldn't help her, couldn't keep her safe. The intensity of his love for Rachel stunned Chloe. She felt the gradual blooming of hope as he realized that she and Clark accepted him and his meteor power. She felt him cautioning himself to stay steady, not go wild with elation when he realized that Clark and Chloe might actually be allies, might aid him.

She wasn't getting actual thoughts, thankfully; telepathy was one power she really didn't want to have. No matter how helpful it would be for investigative journalism, Chloe had found (from her brief infection with the Luthorcorp meteor-based truth-compelling serum) that people did need to keep secrets. Airing out the dirty laundry hurt people sometimes. She shuddered to think of what might have happened if she'd found out Clark's secret back then. She would have outed him for sure, ruined his life.

So all in all, Chloe was glad that all she was getting from Mike was strong emotions and a sense of…well, call it Mike-ness – a sense of the man, his character. From what she'd felt so far, Mike seemed a lot like Clark – a stand-up guy, ready to take responsibility, caring deeply for those he loved.

And finally, it was herself. She'd always been curious, and curiosity got her into trouble sometimes. The first few times, she'd figuratively kicked herself, and mentally whined about her plight. Then Chloe took a good look at herself. _It's all in the attitude, _she thought. If she wanted to be a reporter (and she did), she was going to get into trouble. But it was all in the way you looked at it. It wasn't trouble, it was an adventure. And an adventure, besides being exciting, was a learning experience.

So, this time, being body-snatched wasn't unbearable. What had been a horrible invasion turned into an adventure – by her choice.


	19. A Crazy Idea

Clark quietly climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He heard deep, regular breathing from inside; Rachel, at least, was sleeping soundly. He gently pushed open the door; Mike/Shelby opened his eyes, looked at Clark.

"Mike", Clark whispered. "Chloe's here. We've got to talk." He saw the dog raise his head. "In the barn loft. Come with me."

The dog made an ungainly slide-fall off the bed, then turned back to look at Rachel. He sighed. Then Mike/Shelby deliberately turned his back on Rachel, joined Clark, and headed to the barn.

The two came up the stairs to find Chloe sitting on the couch, drowsiness gone from her eyes. "I could feel you coming", she said softly. Her eyes drifted downward to Mike/Shelby.

"Mike?" she asked hesitantly.

The dog barked once.

"Oh. Mike and I set up this system. One bark for yes, two for no", Clark hurried to explain.

"If you'd had more time, you'd have had him barking in Morse code", Chloe muttered under her breath. Clark shot her an annoyed look.

She sat down on the couch, gestured Mike/Shelby near her. "Mike, if you're in there, and you can get out, we need you to be human again so we can have a conversation." She patted her chest. "I'm ready."

Clark quickly switched to Aura-Vision. Seeing auras was fascinating (Clark thought he'd make it a regular thing, check out people), but even more intriguing was watching Mike move into a body. _That _was something you didn't see every day.

His curiosity was rewarded at the sight of the purple "Mike" aura lifting up from Shelby. At Mike's departure, the suppressed yellow of the dog's aura grew and blossomed to fit the confines of the physical body.

"Shelby?" Clark asked. The dog barked. His eyes looked different, without a human intelligence behind them.

Chloe braced herself. Even though she'd spent the last fifteen minutes rationalizing that this was OK, it still was a little creepy. She felt the immaterial tingle that meant Mike was there. It was like he was knocking on the door. Announcing his presence, letting _Chloe _decide if she was going to be "at home" or not. The implicit asking for permission steadied her; this wasn't a psychic assault.

"Come in", she said. And with that, the tingling moved inward, settling into her. Chloe felt the indescribable sensation of being crowded within herself, felt the now-familiar sense of the other, an other who could be no one else but himself.

Chloe smiled, said "Hello", then deliberately gave up control of the voice. She and Mike had had some difficulty in sharing that the first time, but they'd adjusted faster than she would have thought possible.

Again, the oddity of hearing her voice speak, feeling her lips move, but not doing it herself. She rose, not by her own volition, and extended a hand to Clark.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she heard Mike say in her voice, almost choking with the intensity he tried to convey. "Rachel…"

Chloe took over the voice. "Mike, we're going to keep her here on the farm for a few days. She'll be safe here until we can get the legalities sorted out." _Hand over the voice_.

"How?" she heard Mike reply.

"We've got a good friend", Clark interjected. "He's sending a lawyer tomorrow. He'll get you out of Belle Reve and he'll get Rachel out of foster care."

Chloe felt wild hope spring up in Mike, like flowers from an ashen wasteland. Till then, she hadn't been fully aware of the extent of his despair.

"Really?" he said in a hushed tone.

"Our friend has some pretty good legal help", Clark said. "I'm pretty sure he can arrange something."

Chloe sensed Mike's hope diminishing. "I hope he's as good as you say", Mike said dully, "because I've heard that Lex Luthor is backing Dr. Caselli. That's what the other inmates say. And I've heard about those Luthorcorp lawyers."

"Mike, trust me", Clark said forcefully. He caught Mike's gaze; Chloe, looking out of the same pair of eyes, saw the confidence in Clark's eyes. For a moment, Clark wasn't the shy farmboy; he was the strong, determined man who would do what was right and wouldn't back down.

"OK", Mike said. Chloe could feel his up-and-down hope/despair settle into a steadier courage. _Clark has that effect on people_, she thought.

She took over the voice. "Mike, you visit again tomorrow night – unless we see you sooner – and we'll talk about it all then. I'm sure things will be better tomorrow."

"If you say so, Chloe", he said. She could feel his eagerness, his urge to be up and doing something.

He handed back the voice to Chloe. "OK, then, did you do those exercises I assigned you?" she asked, to get Mike's mind off fruitless worry.

"Yeah, what'd you find out?" Clark asked, interestedly. He was curious – Chloe had given out some tasks which would have Mike exploring the limits of his powers. He'd be willing to bet that Mike, using his powers under coercion, hadn't tested them maximally.

Mike confirmed that bet when he said, "Well, up to this point I haven't been doing much with my ability. Dr. Caselli hooks me up to monitors and scanners and tells me to use it, and sometimes I don't. Just to show him." A troubled expression crossed Chloe's face and she felt Mike's anger. "Then, he'll say something about Rachel, and I know I have to perform."

"So you haven't done a lot till now?" Clark persisted.

"Yes. I'd stay shorter than I knew I could. I've told Dr. Caselli that I need three to five visits to a person before I can…um, get information from them."

"Do you really?" Chloe asked, curious again.

"No. You saw it with yourself, Chloe", Mike said. Clark raised an eyebrow at the sight of Chloe's body referring to itself in the third person. _Well, this **is** Smallville, home of Weird. _

Mike continued. "I was a little unsteady at first, but I had control of your body right from the beginning." He sighed. "Of course, you were sleeping."

"How about other people?" Chloe asked.

"I had to wait for them to sleep, too", Mike replied. "I mean, I could get in when they were awake, but to take control…"

"You know…" Clark said.

"What?" Chloe grabbed the voice first, but Mike would have said it if she hadn't.

"When you took over Shelby, he wasn't asleep." Curiosity tinged Clark's voice.

"Yeah, that's right", Mike said wonderingly. "I couldn't…you weren't….you didn't work. I was getting tired."

Clark remembered the dulling and thinning of the aura he'd seen at that time and thought that "tired" was a misnomer. "Close to death" was probably a more accurate description.

Mike went on, "I don't know if it's because Shelby's a dog, or what, but I was so tired I just sort of _fell _into him. It was like clonking him on the head, because he was unconscious all the time I was there. I mean, usually I can feel the other person –"

"You mean the rightful owner of the body?" Chloe interjected snarkily.

"Yeah", Mike said, abashed. Then he got back on topic. "But with Shelby, I took over all the way."

The three sat in silence for a moment.

"So, can you do that on a person?" Clark asked. "Take over all the way, I mean."

"I don't think so", Mike replied. Then a bemused expression came over his/Chloe's face. "But I've never _fallen _in like that before. It was kind of rough. Maybe that does something."

Curiosity sparked at Chloe. "Can you do it on a human?"

Clark stirred. "Chloe…" he said in a warning tone.

"Clark, I'm OK with this if Mike is", she replied. Maybe Chloe was getting spillover from Mike's euphoria and relief that his daughter was safe; suddenly Chloe felt alive, vibrant, daring, ready to try new things.

"I don't know what kind of effect it'll have on a person", Mike said protestingly.

"I'll be fine!" Chloe said. Really, she was tired of being steady, being conservative, double-checking everything. She got enough of that at the _Planet. _ And Clark was such a belt-and-suspenders kind of guy…_except, of course, when he puts his life on the line to save someone else, _Chloe admitted to herself. _Then he just leaps in without checking the water._ Well, right now she felt daring. It was time to try something bold, darn it!

She thought of a reason to convince Mike. "You might need to know this", Chloe said, speaking more soberly now. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that plans don't always the way you planned them." She cast a glance at Clark, saw his rueful nod. "It's a good thing to have an ace in the hole." _Starting with a friendly Kryptonian, but we won't mention that. _

"That's true", Clark interjected. "I've found…" _that it's a good idea to explore the limits of my powers – shouldn't say that!_ "…that Chloe is right more often than not", he said, barely pausing.

Mike, wearing Chloe's face, looked hesitant but tempted. "OK", he said. "OK, but you have to tell me if I hurt you." Unable to look her in the eye, this last was obviously addressed to his compatriot.

"I will", she said.

"Why don't you lie down?" Clark suggested. "Just in case this experiment involves falling down."

A weird look of internal communication, then Chloe said, "Good idea." Now she was terse, as if she was gathering up her courage.

Chloe – Clark could tell it was her by the way she walked; Mike walked differently – went to the couch and stretched out. "No time like the present", she said. She turned her eyes to Clark. "Clark?" she said in a small voice. _I'm counting on you, _was the unspoken subtext.

"I'll keep an eye", he promised. "Let me know when you're ready to go."

Mike spoke up. "I'll try what I did with Shelby – leave the body, then sort of "fall" back in." Chloe wiggled a little, settling herself more comfortably. "Are you ready?"

"Ready", Chloe said in a steady voice. She looked at Clark.


	20. Chloe Learns To Fly

Clark switched to Aura-Vision; he didn't think he'd ever become used to seeing the swirling beauty of someone's spirit, untrammeled by the earthly flesh that sustained it. Clark saw the Mike aura gather itself, pulling out of the strange meshing that was Chloe and Mike sharing one body. Somehow, without Clark noticing, the two auras had each expanded to fill the confines of Chloe's form, but there was coexistence rather than domination of one over the other.

Clark saw Mike's aura pull out all the way, then gather itself. As he'd seen once before, the ethereal purple mist fell down hard into the body. Clark let out a breath, finding he was much more nervous now that Chloe was involved.

Alarm tinged in his voice as Chloe's blue aura flickered, disappeared.

"Chloe?" Clark asked urgently. "Mike?"

"I think I knocked her out", Mike said. "Give her a minute."

Clark shifted in his chair, worried. But in a few moments, Chloe's blue was back. "Chloe?" he asked her.

"That was like getting hit on the head", she said to Mike accusingly.

"I'm sorry", Mike said. Left unsaid, _you asked for this._

She smiled. "I can just feel you not saying, 'You asked for this.'"

"Um, yeah." Mike smiled too. For a moment Clark felt excluded by their unique connection.

Chloe continued. "We have to try it again."

Exclamations of surprise and negation from Clark and Mike.

"No, really, guys!" Chloe protested. "This is important!" She sat up, took a sip of water from her nearby glass. "We know that Mike, using this technique, can knock someone out temporarily." She sipped again; apparently Mike was hanging back, letting her control the body most of the time. "What I want to find out this time, Mike, is if you can keep me down or out once you've taken over that way."

Clark could hear the dubiety in Mike's voice. "Are you sure?" He sounded extremely reluctant.

Chloe had the bit in her teeth now; Clark recognized the 'investigative reporter' mode.

"I'm sure", she said firmly. "We don't have to do it a lot, but at least try once. You've got to get a feeling for what you can do." A tiny trembling in her voice gave Clark a sudden insight. Chloe had been identified as a meteor freak; Clark had tried to hide it from her, but she had deduced it and forced him to confirm it.

But she didn't know her meteor-induced power yet. Whatever it was, when it manifested, Clark had no doubt that Chloe would explore it to the limits of her ability. This whole thing with Mike was just a dress rehearsal. Suddenly, he was proud of her, of the way she faced a potential life-altering change courageously, even with gusto. Certainly, at times, he hadn't adjusted to his abilities so well.

"I think you should go ahead, Mike', he said softly, putting a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "You're among friends here. You can practice it." He gave another rueful smile. "You never know when you're going to need it." _And wasn't that the truth?_

"OK", Mike said. "But I'm not going to…damage…you."

"And I promise not to damage you either", Chloe said perkily. "Let's get started." Suddenly, despite her nervousness, the adventurous spirit peeked through.

She lay back down on the couch. "Ready?" she asked, looking at Clark as she did so. Obediently, he switched vision perception.

"Ready", Mike said, just before he abandoned the body. Once again, Clark saw the lifting of the aura, the gathering together, the falling. Once again, Chloe's blue aura flickered and disappeared.

"Give me commentary, Mike", Clark suggested.

"She's still out…" the man replied. "Still out…now she's waking up." Clark looked, saw tendrils of the blue mixed in with the purple.

"She's awake now, I'm holding her down." Mike sounded breathless, as if it were an effort to speak. "Still holding…" he stopped speaking as he grimaced and began breathing more heavily.

Clark, looking intently at the conflicted body, saw a mix of colors, blue advancing, purple retreating in one place, only to regain lost territory in another spot. The swirls and tendrils flickered almost more quickly than he could make out.

Suddenly Mike breathed out heavily and said in a choked voice, "She's pushing me out." Clark, viewing the mock battle, expected to see the purple aura lift out of the body as it had before. He leaned closer and widened his eyes in surprise as he said the purple lift out, with the blue attached to it. Not only that, but the purple seemed to rise from the body much more slowly than usual, as if the blue were holding it back.

Clark breathed out slowly, not wanting to disturb whatever it was that was happening. Then, suddenly, the purple coalesced into a smooth sphere; the blue scrabbled against its edges, and then rebounded back into the body. The purple stayed away, Mike choosing to remain unbodied temporarily.

"Chloe?" Clark asked urgently. Her eyes opened.

"God, Clark, that was amazing!" She ran her hands over her body. "Where's Mike? I have to talk to him about that!" Chloe turned her head from side to side, as if she could see his aura. "Mike! Mike! Come back!"

Clark could see the purple descend, come near Chloe. It hesitated. She said impatiently, "Come in." The aura trembled at the edge of the body for a moment, then entered. Clark saw the fitting, the adjustment, the accommodation that Chloe's aura made for it.

"That was so cool! I was doing what you were doing!" Chloe talked so fast Clark could barely understand her. "I left my body and I was flying! That was so cool!" Apparently more descriptive adjectives deserted her in her excitement. "Can we do that again?"

Clark saw Mike take over the voice. He was getting more able to tell the two personalities apart; now Clark could discriminate just by noticing a facial expression that was slightly different, a tiny change in posture.

"I'm tired", Mike mumbled.

Clark felt a momentary twinge of sympathy. Mike wasn't the only one who'd gotten badgered by Chloe in her reportorial fit. He decided to give Mike a few minutes; he stepped in and said, "Just a minute, Chloe. Tell me what happened here." He handed a glass of water to Chloe; she took a sip. "And Mike, jump in if you have anything to add."

Chloe started. "Well, Clark, it was like before – like getting knocked out. I have been knocked out once or twice before, you know, so I know what it feels like." She grimaced at the thought of her previous travails with meteor freaks and bad guys.

"Then I, um, regained consciousness. And it was like Mike was holding me down, like I was tied up or had a big weight on me, or something." She shifted restlessly on the couch. "So I started fighting it – it was sort of instinctual, I couldn't not fight, even though I knew it was Mike – "

"She's quite a fighter", Mike said. "I don't think you have to worry about me taking over people if they're like Chloe." He had taken over the voice with Chloe's tacit acquiescence.

"I don't think there's too many people like Chloe", Clark said, giving her a fond smile. She rolled her eyes. "But you don't think that you can keep someone down, Mike?"

"I don't think so. I think I can knock them out for a short time, but then when they wake up, it's their body and I don't belong, so they can push me out if they fight." Now Mike gave a frown. "That just feels like the way it is."

"So no squatter's rights", Chloe said impatiently, wresting the voice back from Mike. "But the coolest thing, guys –" she sat up, gesturing in her impatience. "When Mike was leaving, I grabbed onto him. Then he left and took me! I was out of my body!" Wonder sparkled in her eyes. "I was flying!" She turned her gaze inward. "Is that what it's like for you? Is that something you can teach me? We have to do that again!"

"What was it like, Chloe?" Clark asked, interested, reversing their usual roles for once. She'd asked him _that_ question a thousand times, trying vainly to understand his alien abilities. There was no way he could ever explain it to her; maybe having it actually happen to her was what got her so excited.

"It was so different…it was cool…." She replied, words spilling out of her mouth. "You saw it, Clark, didn't you?"

_Uh-oh._ Chloe's flood of conversation halted and an expression of dismay crossed her face. _Oh sh!t. I've blown Clark's secret. _She knew that Mike was getting her feelings of apprehension and dismay; she hoped that he wasn't telepathic.

"I saw it, Chloe", Clark confirmed, soberly. _The cat's somewhat out of the bag now._

Mike took over the voice. "You _saw_it?" he asked incredulously. Clark and Chloe said nothing, and an uncomfortable silence filled the loft.

"Um…" Clark began.

"Um…" Chloe said at the same time. Then she took the bit in her teeth. "Mike, let me tell you a story."

"OK", Mike said cautiously.

"As you might know, Smallville was hit by a meteor shower recently." She took another sip of water. "And, although not everyone believes this, it is my firm contention that exposure to the meteorites can have a…well, an _altering_ effect on certain people." She took a deep breath. "These people seem to develop certain, well, paranormal abilities." Silence for a moment. "I think you might realize, from your own experience…" she trailed off.

"Yes", Mike said slowly. "Go on."

Chloe took another deep breath. So far everything she said was the truth as she knew it. She had to be careful here. She could tell when Mike was truthful; their unique connection made it likely that the reverse would hold true as well. He couldn't be sloughed off with some story about "adrenaline rush" or "you had too much to drink".

Choosing her words carefully, Chloe said, "Let's talk about a hypothetical situation here."

"OK", Mike agreed.

""Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that meteor exposure does give powers to certain people." She continued. "And let's say, hypothetically, that there's a person who can see, and partially manipulate, electromagnetic fields." All true so far; it was the inference in between that was unwarranted.

"And, let's just say that if this person had this ability, he would hide it, because people in Lowell County that have certain abilities tend to end up prisoners in Belle Reve." Also all true.

"That's for sure", Mike grumbled. So far Clark stayed tensely silent, letting Chloe do the talking.

She babbled onward. "And let's say, just hypothetically speaking, that if this person found someone in a situation that he himself might be in, if he were found out, this person might want to help that someone." She took a deep breath. "And this person might ask that someone to not tell anyone about it." Chloe hoped she put the earnestness she felt into her voice. "Of course, since this is a purely hypothetical situation, there is no such person. No such person with abilities." There it was; she'd danced around Clark's situation, making each statement factual, but with the whole leading to a conclusion that wasn't quite correct.

Chloe felt Mike's confusion and fear coalesce into hard resolve. "There's no such person", he agreed firmly. Then he grinned at Clark. "See and manipulate EM fields? So what about the Wand of Doom?"

Clark relaxed and glanced at the steel rod, still lying on the table from the other night. "Just a prop", he said cheerfully. He didn't need Chloe to tell him that Mike was on board.

With a quickness that amazed Clark, Mike accepted him. "That explains a lot", Clark heard him mutter. But there was hope in Mike's voice now.

Chloe said quickly, "Mike, I want to try it again." Eagerness filled her voice as she said, "I was flying! Can you take me along again?"

"Um, I don't really know how I did that", Mike mumbled.

"I think I sort of remember", Chloe said. "Just don't knock me out this time." She gave an impish grin. Clark could tell that, despite Chloe having just completed a full day's work, her exhaustion had fallen away in her excitement. "You try to leave the body like you usually do; I'll try hanging on."

Faced with Chloe Sullivan in full demand mode, Mike capitulated. Clark could sympathize; he'd faced the dynamic blonde before and had never been able to stand against her when she was like this.

"OK", Mike said. "Lie down again and let's get started."

Once again the small form stretched out on the couch; once again, Clark switched to aura-detection vision, and once again, Clark saw the purple aura rise. It rose slightly more quickly than it had before, when Mike and Chloe were in their mock fight, but not as quickly as Clark had seen it rise when it was solo.

The purple aura exited the body. The blue aura was still attached to the purple, with the blue slowly contracting, pulling away reluctantly from the confines of the body. Clark, fascinated, saw a ghostly blue arm pull away from Chloe's physical arm; the other arm and the legs followed, till the blue aura was a compact mass centered over the heart. As the purple insistently tugged on the blue, the latter slowly arose. It hesitated for one moment at the border of the physical body; then with a slight jerk, the blue floated free of its sustaining flesh.

The purple aura remained in contact with the blue. The blue seemed less well-formed, ragged at the edges, contrasted with the purple's smooth surface and well-contained swirls. Clark, alarmed, saw the blue tremble slightly. Mike must have picked up on it too, because the purple guided the blue aura back to the body. There was the same little jerk – in reverse, this time – as the blue settled back into its proper habitat. Clark watched the blue expand back to fill the body; after that, the purple followed.

Chloe opened her eyes. "Oh my God. Clark, that was the coolest thing I've ever done." She sat up, eyes shining. "Did you see that? Did you see? I left my body! I was floating!"

Clark couldn't help smiling at her infectious enthusiasm. "How was it?" he asked inanely.

"I have to do that again!" she cried, ignoring his question. "Mike, we have to try that again."

Mike used Chloe's body to give a long sigh. "OK", he said, patiently.

The two lay down once again; Clark watched again, fascinated, as they repeated their feat. This time the blue aura seemed to be improving; it took less time for it to coalesce and, once it exited the body, it was less raggedy and more smooth.

Once again, Chloe sat up, grinning. She had to tell Clark every detail. "Clark, it was amazing!" Her infectious smile made him smile back. "Everything looks different. You're all red and swirly…"

"You know, Chloe, that's what I see", he replied. "I wonder if now you're seeing my aura." Clark asked curiously, "Can you see Mike?"

"Oh yeah. He's all purple and it's so cool! Is my aura like that too?" Chloe persisted.

"It's beautiful, Chloe", Clark said softly.

"Yours is pretty nice too", she said quickly. "Did you see Shelby too?" She kept on chattering past his nod. "He's got that yellow aura."

"Chloe", Clark interjected, stopping her rush of words.

"Can Mike teach you this to do it on your own?" Clark asked. "Mike?" he said.

"I don't know", Mike said, momentarily coming to the fore. "So far it's like I've been holding her hand and leading her."

Chloe excitedly took over the voice. "Yeah, it's like he's teaching me how to, I don't know, cut the strings that hold me to my body." She went on, "We have to practice!" She laughed. "I've got to try that again."

"Wait a minute, Chloe", Clark said. "If he's teaching you to cut the strings that attach you to your body, what if you get lost, or something?"

"I don't think I will, Clark", she said, momentarily serious. "I mean, I can feel where my body is, and it calls me back to it." Chloe reached out, took a sip of water. "And then, when I dropped back in, I could feel the strings re-attaching. So I think I'm OK."

"Mike? What's your opinion? You're the expert here." Clark was a little dubious. It sounded dangerous to him.

"Chloe's right, Clark", Mike said. "It's natural for you to return to your body. And when you do, um, reattaching the strings, um, seems to be automatic."

"You had trouble with Shelby", Clark accused. "And the first time you took over Chloe, you were stumbling."

"That's because it wasn't _my_body", Mike explained patiently. "It's different when I'm in somebody else. All the strings, or whatever you want to call them, are different and it takes me awhile to figure them out." He smiled; although it was Chloe's face, Clark could tell Mike's smile.

"Shelby was a whole other can of worms", Mike said. "I'd never been in a dog before. Mapping out the…whatever…was totally different. I mean, at least when I visit a person, I'm still on two legs."

Clark chuckled till he thought about why Shelby had to be Mike's host in the first place. "But you were weak, weren't you?" he demanded. "I saw you. You looked…I don't know, thin. Hazy?"

"I think that's part of the whole astral projection thing", Mike said. Chloe sat silent, not wanting to interrupt. "I don't know what I am when I'm out of my body – my soul, or my spirit, or something, but I do know that I can't stay out too long. I've got to have some, uh, whatever you call it, physical support." He grimaced. "I don't want to test it, but I think if I'm away too long from a physical body, my aura will fade, or dissolve, or whatever, and then I'll die."

"Could you have gotten back to your own body in time?" Chloe asked, perturbed. "I mean, Shelby was there for you this time, but what if…" she left the question unfinished.

"I don't know. I can move pretty fast from my body to wherever, but I was pretty weak then. I get weaker faster when I'm farther away from my body." Mike raised an eyebrow. "Right now, I'm here in Smallville, and my body is in Belle Reve, so that's not too far away. It was much more difficult when I was sent to visit people in Metropolis. I noticed I had a lot less time before I had to visit a person or get back to myself."

Now Mike took a sip of water. "I've gotten pretty good at assessing my level of weakness", he said. "Chloe, I hope I can teach you that. Or maybe it's just something that you have to feel, and learn it on your own."

"So far I haven't felt it", she replied.

"Just a caution then", Mike said. "The way it works for me is that I feel weak. So if you get like that, remember that feeling, and get back to your body as soon as possible."

Chloe stared into space a moment. "It reminds me of my reading", she said pensively. "Man – more than a beast, less than the angels. We are tied to our fleshly natures."

Mike nodded slowly. "I just wanted you to know", he said. "If you're in trouble, head for your body, get back in it."

"OK", Chloe said, sobered by the realization that this new ability might have its dangers. Then she grinned and said, "Can we practice more?"

"All right," Mike said resignedly.


	21. Clark,  Flying?

"Clark, keep an eye", Chloe ordered as she laid back down on the couch.

"OK", Clark said. Dutifully he switched back to the aura-detecting mode. He watched as Chloe and Mike practiced over and over, the purple pulling the blue behind it out of Chloe's body, the blue staying out for a longer time at each repetition, then falling back into the body.

Clark yawned; he'd had a full day of farm chores too. The quiet stillness of the barn loft had already lulled Shelby to sleep; the old retriever lay flat on the rug, giving a tiny snore. Clark leaned back in his chair; his heavy eyelids fell; gently he slipped into a tiny doze. Next to him, the dance of the auras continued.

Clark felt a tingling. Half asleep, he tried to ignore it.

"_Clark? Clark?" _ Chloe called him. With a jerk, he awoke, looked for her. To his surprise, Chloe still lay quietly on the couch. He'd have sworn she was calling his name right next to him.

"_Clark?"_ Again he heard his name. The metaphorical light bulb went off and he switched vision spectra. Scanning the dark barn loft for the complex patterns only he could see, he felt another tingle on his right hand. Clark sat up in surprise as he saw Chloe's aura superimposed upon his own. Instinctively he pulled his hand back; pulled it back, in fact, faster than the human eye could see. The blue aura, after a moment of hesitation, followed his hand.

Clark forced himself to stay still and looked again. Chloe's blue aura was still connected with Mike's purple; she touched his hand again. Once again he felt the eerie tingle and heard her say, _"Clark."_ It wasn't till now that he realized he didn't hear Chloe with his ears.

He extended his hand again. "Chloe?" he asked wonderingly. Clark had assumed, after Mike's failed attempts, that Clark's alien heritage precluded the visiting of an astral projector. Frankly, he'd been just as happy about that. But obviously, Clark was wrong in his assumption.

Again he heard Chloe's voice. He spent a moment wondering whether he was picking up aura electromagnetic vibrations and his brain was interpreting them as sound, or whether the Chloe aura in his body enabled telepathic communication between them. Whichever, they could communicate.

"Chloe?" Clark asked again.

"_Clark, it's working! Mike said we couldn't do it but I think we can!"_ Despite her current non-material status, Chloe's enthusiasm came through as clearly as ever.

"What can we do?" Clark asked.

"_Teach you how to astral project too. Clark, you have to try this!" _

He carefully didn't pull away again from her touch. "I don't think I can", he said, almost regretfully. At first he'd been weirded out by the idea of an astral bodysnatcher, but seeing how Mike dealt with Chloe, and learning more about Mike's limitations, had eased that fear. Then, seeing Chloe and Mike soar about the barn loft, apparently untrammeled by gravity…that was fascinating. He thought about adding, "You know I'm not exactly a normal guy", but thought better of it.

"_Of course you can, Clark!" _ Chloe said chidingly. She'd never been one to put up with excuses. He felt, rather than saw, her grin. _"If I can get this far in, then I can get in enough to teach you. Or have Mike teach you."_

Whoa. Momentary creepiness again. Chloe must have felt his reluctance, for she added, _"Don't worry, Clark. You have to agree every step of the way." _He could almost see her, with the open smile that dared him to do more, to be better than he was. "_Please?"_

Clark could never resist her. "OK", he said. He relaxed in the chair as much as possible. "Let's go ahead."

"_Yay!" _Chloe said. Then she turned to business. _"OK, the first thing I do is overlay my aura." _Clark saw her suit the deed to the word; felt the tingling throughout his frame.

"_Then Mike came and showed me how to… how to untie the strings. I don't know if I can show you what he did. Let's try this." _Indescribable sensation, centered over his left hand.

"Not helping, Chloe", Clark said.

"_OK, let's try this now." _Whatever it was that she was doing differently, it got Clark no further ahead.

"_I need Mike!" _ Chloe said, exasperation leaking into her inaudible voice. _"Mike!" _It was the astral equivalent of Martha Kent yelling for Clark to come to dinner, a piercing call that could be heard all over the farm.

The purple aura surged after the blue. But when it met Clark's red, it bounced off painfully.

"_This is what happened before?" _Chloe asked, figuring it out.

"Yeah. That's why Mike had to visit Shelby", Clark said sourly.

"_Sorry, Clark", _Chloe said with an immaterial smile. _"I thought you were just a wuss." _

"Chloe!" he protested.

"_Just kidding." _Now she sounded distracted. _"If we can just figure this out, I know there's a way…" _

"I hope so." Clark agreed with her. At first he'd been a little leery, but now they'd gotten far enough that stopping here would be a disappointment.

Clark sat patiently while Chloe tried various aura manipulations. No help; whether it was Mike's and Clark's abilities in conflict, or if it was just because Clark was of non-Earthly origin, Mike could not "get in." Chloe seemed the bridge between the two men. Clark was willing to bet that if Mike's physical body had been present, Chloe could have reversed her present host-guest situation.

"_Let me try this now",_ Chloe said, breaking Clark from his thoughts. Clark, looking down, saw a tendril of the purple extended, then entirely wrapped in the blue. Interestingly, the blue had a tinge of meteor green around its edges. God alone knew how it _felt_ to the participants; that's what it _looked_like to Clark.

"_Clark?"_Chloe chided him. _"Pay attention here now. I think we've got it."_

And indeed they had. This time when Chloe reached for his aura, Clark could actually feel what he needed to do. Clark got a sense of Mike guiding Chloe's hands as she directed Clark, the way a parent might steady the pencil grip of a child just learning to write.

Detaching himself from his body was at once the most fascinating and the most horrifying thing Clark had ever done. Deep inside, something cried out, urging him to re-attach, not to do this. But another part of him wanted to be free, to fly. Carefully, at Chloe's and Mike's direction, Clark undid the bindings. His hand hung limply as the newly freed aura withdrew, joined the larger part of the aura centered in the chest. Clark could feel the emptiness, the need to slip back in, as if re-donning a glove; he knew he could go back at any time and he would reattach.

"_You've go it, Clark!" _Chloe sounded exultant. _"That's what it's like!"_

"Other hand next", Clark said, almost breathlessly. For something that involved no physical activity other than sitting in a chair, this was exhausting.

"_OK."_Clark turned his attention on his other hand and arm. Knowing what to do this time, the process went faster. Then the legs – the red left his limbs, as the aura in the chest grew brighter and more complex.

"_Clark, this is the tough part", _Chloe warned. _"You have to pull away from your senses."_

"?" Clark thought an unvoiced query at her.

"_You have to pull away from your head. You lose sight, hearing, smell, your voice. Try to do it fast, and coalesce into the center. Then Mike and I will be with you, and we'll pull you on out." _

Clark gulped. He hoped she was right about that. Then he straightened in the chair. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained_, he thought. He took a deep breath and called, "Chloe?"

"_I'm here."_

"Guide me through it." Not waiting for her acknowledgement, he felt the ties that connected him to his physical form. Going through four limbs had taught him that. Deliberately, he detached the hearing first. The soft susurrus of the evening breeze coming in through the loft window, Shelby's tiny snores, the occasional creak of the wooden boards, all became silent.

Going quickly, not wanting to think about it, Clark detached the smell and touch. He'd never realized till now how much he depended on smell; the hay and manure on the lower floor fought against the oil and gas of the machines. Chloe's unique scent, more noticeable now after her day of working hard at the _Daily Planet. _All gone now. Then the voice; he could no longer feel the air moving in his throat.

Finally, after one last look around the dark loft lit only by a small table lamp, its golden pool barely extending to Chloe's form on the couch, Clark detached his sight. Fear struck him as he fell into an endless silent dark. He tumbled down, senseless but aware, into the void of his own self.

But Chloe caught him. As he'd caught her many a time, stopping her from falling to her death, she caught him. He opened his metaphorical eyes _(How am I doing this anyway?) _and saw her. It was only her aura, not her true body, but Clark saw her as the Chloe he knew. Or sometimes he saw her like that, other times as the blue aura of constantly changing shape.

"_You made it!" _Chloe exclaimed. There was just enough of a note of relief in her voice for Clark to realize that she hadn't been 100 confident. _"I knew you could!" _

Clark "looked" at her, saw what appeared to be a purple talisman held in her hand. Chloe perceived him looking at it. _"Mike"_, she said. _"Ready to go?"_

She reached out her hand. Clark took it. Chloe held up the purple talisman in her other hand. Slowly, defying gravity, the two rose up. A slight resistance at the formerly unbreakable borders of his physical form; then, with almost a slight "pop" they were through. Clark looked around. His grin almost split his face as he realized he'd just become Clark Kent, Astral Projector.

Chloe was right; this was cool.

"_Clark?"_he turned to face the voice. His eyebrows raised as he saw Mike. Just as he saw Chloe as the blue aura and as herself, he saw Mike now, one moment as the purple complexity, one moment as the man he must be. A small but muscular, broad-shouldered man, about five and a half feet tall or so, who stood lithely on the balls of his feet, straight posture. Close-cropped hair did little to conceal the tanned face, whose lines told the story of care and responsibility.

"_Mike!"_Clark said. _"So that's what you look like!" _

"_And that's what you look like." _Mike returned.

_"We did it!" _Clark said triumphantly, advancing towards Mike, raising his hand to give him a triumphant slap. But as the two men neared, Clark found that he could not touch Mike, could not even approach closely. An invisible force pushed them apart. Clark was reminded of physics class where they investigated magnetic poles; joining the magnets a certain way made them "click" together. When put the other way, the magnets repelled each other, the force preventing closeness. It felt that way now.

_"Do you feel that?" _he asked Mike. The other man nodded.

_"Chloe?"_Clark asked.

_"Right here, Clark, still holding your hand,"_ she said snarkily.

_"Chloe, you can touch Mike, right?" _Clark asked.

Without answering, she opened her hand holding the purple talisman. Clark now saw it as part of Mike's aura, connected to him by a thin tendril. Chloe kept hold of it as it contracted back towards Mike. As it reeled in, she followed it, till she stood between Clark and the other man, holding one of their hands in each of hers.

_"How can you do that?" _Clark asked her curiously. _"Mike and I can't touch each other." _

Startled, Chloe looked at Mike. He nodded in confirmation.

_"I don't know," _she replied, turning her attention to Mike. _"How is that you do what you do? And how could you take us along?" _

_"Yeah, I'd like to know that too," _Clark said. _"Chloe, when you were teaching me, it felt like Mike was guiding you?"_

_"Right, Clark," _she said. _"I can see what he does, but I just can't do it myself. Do you think you can?"_ That was Chloe. If she were kidnapped and tied up, she'd be investigating where her captors got the rope. She went on, repeating her motto in a sprightly tone, _"This calls for further investigation!" _

Clark and Mike looked at each other and sighed. They were in for a long night.


	22. What They Learned

Much later that night, after Mike finally made his good-byes, Clark and Chloe sat exhaustedly together on the couch. Despite the jaw-breaking yawns that punctuated her conversation, Chloe's tone was as excited and interested as it had been earlier that morning.

"OK", she said. "After forty-seven trials, this is what we've established." She yawned.

Clark yawned too. It was contagious. He hadn't felt this tired since the time he'd lost his powers and had had to do farm work the regular human way. That whole experience had given him an understanding why his dad had been so muscular. "And what have we established?" he asked rhetorically.

"Firstly, that Mike isn't the only one who can astral-project. You can and I can too," she said triumphantly.

"Let me point out that neither of us can start on our own. Whatever his gift is, we don't have it. He's the only one that can get us out of our bodies." Clark shifted restlessly. "And he can't do it for me. He can only do it if you're mediating."

"Yes. That's interesting", Chloe said. "I wonder why."

"You know, Chloe, it's that kind of restless curiosity that leads to scientific discoveries, world-shaking stories in the _Daily Planet_, and Nobel Prizes", Clark said, almost sarcastically. "Unfortunately, tonight, it leads to us staying up late when one of us has to get up at five a.m. to milk the cows."

"And one of us has to be at the _Planet_ at nine a.m.", Chloe retorted. "And that one doesn't have any special abilities." She punched him lightly. "You're a fine one to talk."

"All right!" Clark withdrew in mock protest. "I'm wondering too. And I can think of two reasons."

"And those two reasons are?" Chloe asked, serious now.

"The first is that I am, uh, what I am, and that's why Mike couldn't connect. But you know me better so we, uh, fit together well." Clark blushed as he said this; his mind suddenly conjured up very inappropriate images at the phrase, _fit together well. _

"That's possible, I guess," Chloe allowed. "It doesn't seem all that_probable_ to me, though." She looked at him. "I mean, there's still the species difference." She looked away. "What's the second reason?"

Now Clark looked away. "That it's your meteor power," he mumbled.

Chloe said nothing for a moment, taken aback.

Clark went on. "I was thinking about this. The first time you helped me, I was looking at your aura, and it was blue, but there were some green, um, green edges to it. And I was thinking, that it was the same color as the kryptonite." He swallowed. "That's one reason I was so nervous at first."

Chloe stared into space. "My meteor ability", she murmured. Then, louder, "So I'm the butter in the sandwich?" She rolled it around in her mind. "I guess that wouldn't be too bad an ability. At least I'm not likely to hurt people with it."

"Chloe", Clark said earnestly, taking her hands in his. "You're not going to hurt anybody." She grimaced and he gave her hand a little squeeze for emphasis. "I know you're worried about that. But I trust you. You're not going to do it."

"I'm holding you to your promise, Clark," she said shakily, referring to the time when she'd called herself a walking time bomb. "You still have to be my personal bomb squad."

"I will," he promised. Then Clark released her hands and said, "Getting back to the evening's events…"

Chloe laughed nervously and went on. "Then we found out that once we're out, though, we can stay out for awhile."

"I did get tired, though," Clark said. "I know what Mike means now. I think we do really need a body to support us. If we're out too long…"

"I felt that too," Chloe agreed. "But the cool thing is, when we're out, we can float and fly, and go anywhere."

"Yeah, I wonder how far we can go," Clark said interestedly. Now she had him thinking. "We know that Mike came from as far as Belle Reve – can we do that too? Or can he do it because it's his gift?"

"We only stayed in the barn tonight," Chloe said, biting her lip. "Now I wish we'd tried going out farther."

"Even to the house," Clark agreed, irritated with himself at the missed opportunity. "Things look so different when you're out…"

"I know," Chloe said. "Clark, do you think we're seeing in more of an electromagnetic way? I mean, we could see Shelby's aura, and the lamp seemed different, and the electrical stuff that was turned on looked different from the stuff that was turned off."

"Yeah, I noticed that too. And did it work for you, that if you concentrated, you could see the room like it usually is?"

She frowned. "Not really. Maybe I just wasn't trying."

Clark said intently, "Maybe it's just a matter of the way you focus, or the how you force yourself to look at something."

Chloe laughed. "Then I can see why you're better at it."

"Why?"

"Because, Clark, you're constantly switching perspectives. One minute you're looking at something, and then you switch to x-ray vision, and the next minute you're lighting a candle or something with your heat vision. And didn't you have to adjust your vision to see the auras? I couldn't see them till Mike got me out of my body." She laughed again. "So if there's anyone who knows about switching perceptions, it's you."

"I never thought about it that way," Clark said, feeling stupid. Of course Chloe was right. He'd had a lot of practice in looking at things different ways. But, Clark realized, it was only physical. Chloe might not have multiple-spectrum vision, but she was the one who looked at things with different _ideas._

"Another thing we didn't try," Chloe said, looking nervous.

"What?"

"Well, you know we'd go back into our bodies when we got tired. And Mike visited me."

"And?"

"We didn't try going into each other's bodies." Chloe looked away, and Clark found he was embarrassed too. She babbled onward. "I mean, Mike can do it, so theoretically we should be able to as well."

"Well, there's no denying that it's easy to jump back into a body," Clark said, adopting a clinical tone to hide his reaction to the thought. "Um. It just seems a little creepy." He backpedaled as Chloe frowned. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," Clark said, quoting the famous _Seinfeld_ line.

"Clark, it still bothers you, doesn't it?" Chloe asked him quietly.

He paused for a moment, then said, "Yes. " Clark rose, began pacing. "I mean, doesn't it bother you that Mike is sharing your body?"

Chloe looked at him. "At first it did. But then I realized he was a good guy." She understood some of Clark's nervousness. "Clark, did you ever read a book by Lois Bujold called _The Curse of Chalion_?"

"No," he said, sitting down again.

"Well, in the book, there's a situation like this, and one of the characters says, 'When we get married, we women are expected to share our bodies, aren't we?'" Chloe looked down at her hands. "It's not like that for guys."

Clark considered it. "Oh." A lot was understood, and left unsaid in that one-word expression. _Time to look at something from another perspective again, Clark,_ he told himself.

"So, next time, Clark, let's try it out?" Chloe asked.

"OK," he said. "But only you and only a switch, OK? I'm not ready for Mike yet."

Chloe smiled. Guys.

Obviously changing the subject, Clark said, "It's getting pretty late. Do you want to stay here tonight?"

"I don't think I have a choice," she said ruefully. "You told me that Lois and Jimmy are at the Talon apartment, and I don't want to run into them and have them ask awkward questions about how I got here and where's my car."

Clark nodded. "OK, you can have the couch."

"Not your room?" Chloe blurted out, a little surprised. Clark, the consummate gentleman, had always offered his bed before.

"Rachel's in my room," he reminded her. "I figure you can have the couch and I'll stay up here in the loft. That way you're closer to the bathroom."

"Much appreciated, Mr. Kent." Chloe had to admit that using the bathroom was a pretty good idea right now.

"I think my mom has some extra nightclothes you can wear to bed," he said. "Lois and Jimmy said they were going back to Metropolis pretty early, so tomorrow morning you can stop by the apartment after they leave and get some fresh clothes." Clark looked at her business suit, now sadly wrinkled. "If they're not out by the time you need to get going, I can speed in there and pick up an outfit for you without them noticing."

"God, I hope it doesn't come to that," Chloe said in mock horror. "I'll end up wearing red and blue plaid."

Clark smiled back at the zinger, ignored it. "You said you needed to be at the _Planet_ at nine a.m. tomorrow?" She nodded. "Be ready to go at eight fifty-five; that'll get you there four and half minutes early."

"Thanks, Clark." Chloe yawned again.

"Carry you over?" he asked.

"I_can _walk," she replied.

"Yeah, but then you don't have to put your heels back on." He pointed toward her shoes, tipping drunkenly on the floor next to the couch.

Chloe stared at the shoes. Heels were an invention of the devil, she thought. Even after four hours of barefoot astral practice, her feet were only now recovering from the cramming and pounding of twelve hours on the _Daily Planet_floors. She couldn't bear the thought of putting on her heels again; in fact, she was _so_going to wear flats tomorrow.

"Thanks again, Clark." She picked up her shoes; he swept her up in his arms.

"Ready?" he asked.

"OK."

Another blur, a whoosh. She was getting used to these now. Chloe found herself standing by the comfortable sofa in the Kent living room. Clark had obviously sped on after he dropped her off, because the couch was made up with fresh bedding and one of Martha Kent's nightgowns was draped over the arm.

"Good night, Chloe", Clark said.

"Good night, Clark."


	23. Back At Belle Reve

The phone gave an electronic chirp, and Caselli woke up. He checked the glowing digits of his clock – two forty-six a.m. Despite the interruption in his sleep, Caselli smiled.

_It's a great time now,_ he thought. Things were going well. He had three new meteor mutants to work on, and each one meant a sizable bonus from Lex Luthor. Actually, several bonuses for each, as the money came when Caselli achieved certain objectives such as identifying the meteor power, gathering an appropriate amount of evidence, and ensuring the cooperation (or at least the non-resistance) of the subjects.

The doctor hummed just a bit as he reached for the phone. Things were coming along very nicely with Mike Reilly. The meteor-affected man had been forced to cooperate, given that his daughter was under the control of one of the many Luthorcorp minions _(of course there was no overt connection between Mr. Hansen and Luthorcorp, but we know the truth, _he thought.)

And Reilly had told him his meteor power himself! All the boring office psychotherapy consultations Caselli had with all the boring people, weekly, had finally paid off. But face it, sometimes you had to sift through a lot of dross before you hit the ore. Finding out Reilly's ability and getting him into Lex Luthor's 33.1 program had been worth a considerable amount. For no effort on Caselli's part!

Then, Caselli had earned a second bonus by putting Mike through the comprehensive data gathering program. Lex had been extremely interested in Mike's brain waves, physical body reactions, and electrical resistance and conductance measurements. Lex didn't care where Mike went; but Caselli did now. Deciding to send Reilly to "visit" Caselli's…tormentors? (_Let's just call them concerned creditors) _had unexpectedly morphed into another semi-jackpot.

Caselli hadn't really expected any useful information from the Family members that Reilly had been too. Frankly, he'd just sent Mike there because he couldn't think of anyone else at the moment, being focused on his debts and the need to make some sort of payment. It was either make a payment or face the kind of debt collection techniques that weren't governed by the Fair Credit Reporting Act. The kind of debt collection techniques that might leave a person crippled.

Then Reilly had come back with actual sensitive computer passwords, e-mail accounts and addresses of certain invitation-only websites. The weeks-long ramifications had allowed Caselli to clear his account! Not only did Caselli get another bonus from Lex (those particular visits having proven very helpful in understanding the physical manifestations of the astral projection phenomenon), but he'd gotten some respect, and a clear financial slate, from the local Family.

Caselli had actually chortled with glee that time, after Reilly had been put back in his cell, and the doctor had had time to review and try out the data. After that, he vowed to send Reilly to "visit" others who might be interfering with Caselli's plans. He could use more inside information; he'd made a few bad bets and his account with the Family was unfortunately in arrears again.

The phone burbled again, and Dr. Caselli, startled out of his reminiscence, picked up.

"He's waking up," the orderly, Ernie Padgett, replied.

"I'll be down immediately," Caselli replied. He counted on Ernie. The laconic behemoth had worked for him for years. Caselli had managed to fix a sexual assault charge and save Padgett from a stay in the state pen – a stay where Padgett would have likely been injured or killed, given the usual reaction of ordinary decent criminals to child molesters.

Since then, Caselli had kept Padgett under control here at Belle Reve, using him for the quiet investigations on the meteor freaks. The orderly was loyal to Caselli and couldn't be turned; he also was sly and had a sense of how the meteor freaks might rebel. Unfortunately for the affected, rebellion was nipped in the bud. Forcefully. And nobody messed with Ernie a second time; the large man had quite a mean streak.

Caselli hung up the phone and threw on a jacket. Knowing that Reilly was "on walkabout" had prompted him to lie down in his regular clothing for a quick nap. He wondered what kind of information Reilly had been able to obtain from Chloe Sullivan. Caselli didn't like it when reporters got nosy; he got nosy back. Certainly he'd gotten plenty of information about Sullivan already; anything from Reilly would be icing on the cake.

He opened the door; good thing he hadn't had anyone in here since he lined the entire room with tinfoil. After learning about Reilly's meteor power, he'd done some reading and had fixed up his entire room as a Faraday cage.

_And I think only one or two more trips, and we'll be able to duplicate his power, _Caselli thought._We already have the DNA. But I'll leave that part to Donovan. But if so, it means another bonus! _

Yes, indeed, life was looking good.

* * *

Mike came back to himself in what he thought of as the experiment room at Belle Reve. He opened his eyes, noticing the harshness of the fluorescent lights. The numerous electrodes and leads taped to his head and body itched ferociously, more so than usual. He stretched, feeling stiff joints creak. The unfurnished room contained only a hospital bed and numerous monitors, computers, and cameras, all of which fit easily into the four walls of institutional white and hard tile floor.

"He's awake, Dr. Caselli," a dull voice rumbled. Mike didn't have to look to know it was Ernie Padgett, the taciturn orderly who always attended Mike during these sessions. Scheduled as "psychotherapy" on the official calendar, they actually involved Mike in the role of lab rat demonstrating his meteor-induced ability for the cameras and recording devices.

Ernie never talked to Mike; he was a hulking brute, much larger than Mike, probably larger than most of the attendants and patients in Belle Reve. Mike had initially hoped that Padgett would be one of the many apathetic Belle Reve attendants, punching the clock day in and day out, willing to pass messages or bring forbidden items for a bribe. Alas, the terse orderly seemed totally loyal to Dr. Caselli and followed the latter's orders to keep Mike out of contact with others.

Mike sat up slowly; the stiffness seemed excessive this time. He'd been away a lot longer than usual, what with seeing Rachel and then practicing with Clark and Chloe. A painful grimace from getting his body moving once again disguised the hope deep in his eyes.

"Dug up any more bodies, Igor?" Mike needled the orderly. After seeing a few months of Padgett's devotion to Dr. Caselli, Mike had nicknamed the slavish attendant after Dr. Frankenstein's minion. Ernie never responded directly to Mike, but sometimes Mike saw an annoyed expression cross his face. These rare events only encouraged Mike in his teasing.

As ever, Padgett remained silent as he moved to Mike and began removing the electrodes. His revenge was to rip off the leads, painfully taking off the top layer of skin along with the dried adhesive. Mike repressed a painful hiss, not wanting to show weakness.

"Mr. Reilly," Dr. Caselli said genially. "You were away for much longer this time. What have you found out for me?"

Mike debated remaining silent. He'd done that a few times before, lacking news of Rachel. Dr. Caselli had punished this impertinence by showing video of Rachel, but video of her crying hopelessly. Not knowing _why _she wept infuriated and frightened Mike; Dr. Caselli would say nothing. In the end, Mike had caved, and now he gave reports.

"I was able to find Chloe Sullivan this time," he said. He'd lied the last two times and said he couldn't find her. It was true that he needed some personal object, to find a person the first time; Caselli had sent him after Chloe two times before her coffee cup was obtained, and Mike hadn't been able to find her then. But tonight was the fifth time he'd gone to Chloe, the third time he'd been successful.

"It's going to take a couple more visits to really get anything done," Mike lied. Right from the beginning, after realizing he'd been betrayed and trapped in the hellhole that was Belle Reve, Mike had decided to downplay his ability, obfuscate and mislead his captors wherever possible. Frankly, right at the beginning, Mike hadn't known the limits of his ability either. He hoped, intensely, that the recording devices didn't show the differences between a successful visit and an unsuccessful one.

"It might take longer," Mike added. "I've never visited a female before, and it's really different." He caught a fleeting, twisted smile on the face of the giant orderly, quickly wiped away into the normal blank expression. The smile gave Mike a sudden chill. "I expect it'll take two or three more visits."

Dr. Caselli tapped his fingers impatiently against his thigh. "Mike," he said in that gentle voice, "I'm really hoping you can do better than that." The orderly moved closer to Mike at the silky menace in Caselli's words.

Mike stood, straightened himself. "I can only do so much," he snapped back. "You don't realize how hard it is." He sounded convincing even to himself.

Dr. Caselli stool silent, the moment pregnant with tension. Then he relaxed and said, "Well, I guess we'll try again tomorrow. I hope I won't have to notify Mr. Hansen about your intransigence." The threat to Rachel here hardly veiled.

Mike lowered his eyes to hide the elation that blazed in them. _He doesn't know! _Mike thought. _He doesn't know that Rachel is out of Hansen's grip and that she's with the Kents. Why hasn't Hansen told him yet? _

Dr. Caselli continued. "In the meantime, Mike, I feel that some time alone might help you concentrate and get you in the proper frame of mind to perform your duties." Mike continued staring at the floor, not wanting the other to see any expression. The "time alone" was a euphemism for solitary confinement. Mike thought back to the movie with Steve McQueen where the character was in the Nazi prison camp, constantly being thrown into "the cooler" for escape attempts. It was much the same; a boring cell, nothing to do, nothing to read, no diversion.

But Caselli didn't know this time that Mike welcomed the solitary imprisonment. He had hope now. And if Mike were stuck alone, with no one watching, maybe he could do some unauthorized astral projection. He'd tried so hard to make Caselli think that Mike could only do it during sleep. And so far that had been the case.

But Mike thought now he might be able to use his meteor ability when awake. During the practices with Chloe and Clark, Mike had become much more aware of the proper state of mind necessary for astral projection. Apparently teaching someone was the best method for learning it yourself. With a little more practice in achieving the proper trance-like state…well, things might turn out a little differently than Dr. Caselli expected.

Padgett, the large orderly, moved toward Mike, body language saying silently that there was nothing he'd like better than for Mike to resist. Mike had tried that. Once. He moved along like a good little boy now. He kept his head down and shuffled to the door, apparently cowed by Caselli's veiled threats.


	24. The Metropolis Lawyer

Clark awoke early, as usual. The good thing about being in the barn loft was that he didn't have to worry about making noise and waking up others. He stood facing east for a moment, enjoying the cloud-streaked beauty of the sunrise, then went to work on his chores.

An hour later, he shed his boots at the front door. The delicious odor of cooking pancakes filled the kitchen; his mother greeted him with a smile.

"Chloe and Rachel are almost up," Martha said. "Have some orange juice."

As if prompted by her name, Chloe came down the stairs. "Good morning, Mrs. Kent, Clark," she said.

"Good morning," they replied.

Chloe headed to the table, drawn irresistibly by the lure of pancakes. Clark filled a plate with two, buttered them, and passed it to her.

"Clark, I heard from Oliver last night," she said. "He said his lawyer would be over here at eight a.m."

"That's pretty darn early for a Metropolis lawyer," Clark said, surprised.

"I guess when you want the Queen Industries business…" Chloe replied.

"You're going to be here to talk to him, right?" Clark asked, looking at the two women in the kitchen with him. "Mom, I don't know if Chloe filled you in…"

"She didn't have time to say a lot," Martha replied. "But with the way that child has been abused, I'm not allowing her to go back to that situation." Her firm voice carried the conviction Clark had heard a thousand times before. When Martha Kent talked that way, things happened the way she said they would.

"OK, let's work out a plan, then." Chloe smiled gleefully. Clark shivered. She had that twinkle in her eye again which meant that all good Kryptonians should take cover.

* * *

An hour later, Clark settled back at the kitchen table with Chloe. The Kent Express had been busy. He'd taken Chloe, dressed in yesterday's clothing, back to the _Planet._ There, pleading an all-nighter and hinting of a front-page story, Chloe had wangled two days off from her skeptical editor.

Clark had then picked her up, taken her back to Smallville, where thankfully, Lois and Jimmy had just departed the Talon. Jimmy would no doubt be disappointed at the note that Chloe left for him at the_Planet_ – "Went to Smallville this morning. Working on a story. Call me".

Once at the Talon apartment, Chloe took the opportunity to get a good shower and put on some comfortable business-casual clothing. Clark was relieved that he hadn't had to super-speed in and pick out an outfit for her. He'd never have been able to pick out the right combination without extremely specific instructions, and he really hadn't been looking forward to rummaging in her drawer of unmentionables. Even with her permission, that would have been just too embarrassing.

Clark got them back to the Kent Farm in time to clean up himself while Martha chatted with Rachel over breakfast. After hearing that the foster family had basically fed Rachel only chips and cereal, Clark's mother apparently had taken it as her personal crusade to get Rachel eating healthy meals. The girl seemed more outgoing this morning, lifting her head more, responding to Martha and Chloe's conversation.

Rachel still seemed a little shy around Clark. He wasn't offended; his size and his deep voice intimidated lots of people, not just little girls. Besides, the last man she'd been around had slapped and punched her. It would take some time to earn her trust. Clark just said "good morning" and offered his hand again; after Rachel shook it, he sat back in his chair, allowing Rachel her space, making light conversation. Clark polished off a few helpings of pancakes and Rachel gradually became more accustomed to him. Eventually she made shy replies to Clark's comments and questions.

Clark had just finished the breakfast dishes when a knock at the door heralded the advent of the Metropolis lawyer. _Right on time, _Clark thought.

"Hello? Anyone home?" a tenor voice called from the side door.

Martha Kent welcomed the man in. "I'm so glad to see you," she said.

"James Cooney," he introduced himself. "Member of Wright, Furcal, and Ball." He saw uncertainty in their eyes. "The Metropolis law firm. We do a good deal of business for Mr. Queen, and his office has called and requested that I come here and handle your problem. Whatever it is."

Clark liked him immediately; in his mid-thirties, the slight man had a confident smile and a straight posture. Wire-rimmed glasses, along with a slight receding hairline, confirmed the studious, almost nerdy, look. However, a glint in the back of his eyes made Clark think he might have hidden depths.

The lawyer looked dismayed at his shoes; dust from the farm lane had sullied the mirror-bright polish. Martha was quick to distract him.

"We're very happy you're here, Mr. Cooney. Can I offer you some breakfast?"

The lawyer looked at plates of pancakes and fruit on the table, smelled the maple syrup, and swallowed. "Thank you, Senator," he said, "but I think I have to decline. Regretfully." He softened the refusal with a smile. "I gathered it was somewhat urgent?"

Clark stood; the lawyer's eyes turned to him. "Yes it is." Clark directed the lawyer's attention to the other breakfast attendees. "Let me make some introductions and give you the story."

In a bustle of activity, a place was cleared for Mr. Cooney at the table. He sat down, opened his briefcase, took out a legal pad. "Ready," he said.

Clark pointed to each person as he named them. "I believe you know my mother, Martha Kent."

"Charmed," the lawyer said, rising to his feet and shaking her hand.

"Chloe Sullivan, reporter from the _Daily Planet."_

"Pleased to meet you," Cooney said somewhat warily.

"I'm Clark Kent. And this is our guest, Rachel Reilly."

"Miss Reilly, delighted to make your acquaintance." James Cooney did not attempt to walk around the table and shake her hand, contenting himself with a half-bow.

"Rachel is the reason you're here today, Mr. Cooney," Clark continued. "It's like this…"

* * *

After Clark, Chloe and Martha told the story, the lawyer asked to interview Rachel separately. "Client confidentiality, don't you know." He took Rachel aside to the living room.

Despite the lawyer's low voice and Rachel's natural shyness, both Clark and Chloe could hear their conversation.

"Rachel?" the lawyer asked.

"Yes?" she replied softly.

"I'm going to be your lawyer. I'm going to fight for you." Clark, hearing the noises, guessed that James had risen from his chair and had crouched down on his knees by Rachel. "I have to ask you now, do you have anything to add to the story that Mrs. Kent had to say?"

Rachel had been shy at first, but a noisy breakfast and time spent with others had broken the cocoon. Now she replied to the lawyer with no hesitation.

"Not really, Mr. Cooney. I had to stay with Mr. Hansen and his family. I don't like them."

"And Mr. Hansen hit you?" the lawyer persisted, casting a glance at Rachel's facial contusions.

"Yes. Then Miss Lane came and knocked him down. And she took me here."

"Are you going to be able to tell your story in court, in front of a judge? It will be a lot more formal than it is here."

"Mrs. Kent said that I might have to testify, and she said that all I had to do was tell the truth," Rachel replied.

"That's right," Cooney replied. "I'll want to talk with you some more, but right now we have to go back and start doing things."

Clark and Chloe sat back, tried to look as if they hadn't heard anything. They each cast a questioning glance at the lawyer as he and Rachel returned to the kitchen table.

"Mr. Cooney, Clark and I have something to add," Chloe offered. "Can we speak with you in private?"

Back they traipsed into the living room. Chloe kept her voice lower than Rachel's had been, not wanting Rachel to hear this.

"Rachel's father is an inmate in Belle Reve," she began.

The lawyer grimaced. "That makes it harder," he said. "There's just a presumption…"

"...that people in Belle Reve belong there. I know," Chloe finished the sentence. "But this is different. I have information from a source – I can't say who or what – that Rachel's father is in there unjustly. He was railroaded in and can't get out."

Clark could see James Cooney thinking about this statement, winding it back and forth in his brain like yarn on knitting needles. Clark could actually see the lawyer deciding to not ask, "Why?"

Instead, Cooney asked, "But if he's an involuntary committal…"

"I know. There's supposed to be a 72-hour review, and then reviews every six months, to show that he should be kept in Belle Reve." Chloe sounded eager. "We have reason to believe that those papers do not exist, that Mike Reilly has not undergone the legally required reviews."

Cooney smiled. "That would make our job a lot easier, Miss Sullivan."

"Please, call me Chloe."

"Only if you call me James." Clark saw that even high-priced Metropolis lawyers were not immune to the Sullivan charm.

Cooney continued. "If our goal is to get him out of Belle Reve, and I'm assuming that's what you're aiming at –"

Chloe nodded, Clark's nod coming a fraction of a second later.

"—then the burden of proof will be on our adversaries to show that Mr. Reilly should be committed. If the legally necessary paperwork is not present, then Mr. Reilly will be released as a matter of course. The incarceration will be considered a violation of his constitutional rights."

"And he'll be able to get custody of Rachel again?"

The lawyer shuffled. "Well, that depends on how well he presents himself to the judge. A stint in Belle Reve is, well, it's a major black mark. You know, don't you, that many of the Belle Reve inmates have had their parental rights terminated?"

Clark hadn't known that. It was one more dehumanizing effect, one more way of turning a person (albeit one with a meteor ability, maybe) into just a number on a form somewhere, a person with no connections. He wasn't surprised, thought, when Chloe nodded. She knew lots of things.

"However," James continued, "the fact that the, um, _approved_foster parent was physically abusing the child, and that we have concrete proof of this, will go far towards redressing the balance." He smiled at Chloe. "Good job on the part of Miss Lane and Mr. Olsen. I've got to talk with them soon. They'll have to appear in court."

Clark smiled. "I think they were going back to Metropolis this morning, but we can call Lois and get her to turn around." He was looking forward to that; Lois had cost him time in the past – a year's worth of inability to do chores at superspeed. He anticipated costing her time now. "Actually, I'm surprised she didn't stop by and say good bye to my mother. I expected that she'd want a free breakfast."

"She and Jimmy stopped by while you and Chloe were out." Martha Kent's voice held amusement. "She said that she was sorry she missed you."

"Yeah. I bet," Clark said sarcastically.

James picked up his briefcase, opened it, and put his legal pad, filled with notes in tiny, neat handwriting back inside. "I'm going to go to the Lowell County Courthouse and file a petition for an immediate hearing with the Family Court judge. Then I'll also file for an immediate hearing on the status of Mr. Reilly. I'm hopeful that we can get something done today."

Chloe said, "Clark and I have some errands to run in town, James. Can we drive in front of you and show you the way to the courthouse?"

Clark added, "Not that it's that hard to find. This is Smallville, after all."

"That would be very helpful," Cooney said, smiling at Chloe.


	25. Lowell County Courthouse

Clark had no problem finding parking for the truck in the downtown lot; as he and Chloe got out of the truck, they saw the lawyer parking his small BMW in the next space. The three met in the lot, and James said, "I guess the courthouse _is_ pretty obvious."

"Right in the middle of downtown," Chloe agreed. They walked up the granite steps, past the landscaped shrubs and manicured lawn surrounding the imposing nineteenth-century building. As they entered, Chloe pointed down a hall, "You'll probably want to head that way to make your petitions."

The lawyer raised an eyebrow, and Chloe said, "I'm a reporter. I come here all the time. I know where all the departments are."

"OK," James replied. He headed down the hallway, the brass chandeliers high above adding their tiny bit of candlepower to the bright sun that shone through the corridor windows. His footsteps echoed off the terrazzo floor.

"Let's go down to Records and get a copy of Mike's file," Clark suggested, having done that the other day. Chloe nodded and they set off down the long corridor. Despite the courthouse containing most of the government departments for Lowell County, there were surprisingly few people walking around. Clark had subconsciously expected it to be busier, then realized that he'd mostly been there before during lunch or afternoon hours. Maybe their early morning arrival had beaten the usual crowd.

Around the next corner would be the counter for the Records Office. Clark began to turn the corner, then stopped, stepped back, and kept Chloe from advancing.

"What?" she asked.

"I see one of Lex's security guys at the counter," Clark told her.

"What's he saying?" Chloe asked. She was too far away to hear, but knew that was no barrier to Clark.

"Give me a minute," Clark whispered, and extended his senses.

"_We've got a bunch of papers for you to file, Mrs. Daugherty," _Lex's security guy was saying.

"_How are you, Mr. Neun?" _Clark could hear Mary Daugherty reply.

"_I'll be fine once you take care of these papers," _the man persisted.

"_They haven't come through the proper channels. I can't take them." _Mary sounded outwardly firm, but Clark could hear a waver in her voice.

Lex's guy sighed. _"Mrs. Daugherty, we've been through this before. Do I have to say it again?"_

Mary was silent.

Mr. Neun continued in a didactic tone, as if instructing a mentally-impaired person. _"You take the papers. You file the papers. Your husband keeps his job. Your family keeps their health insurance." _

Silence again. Clark, not wanting to show himself, but wanting to know more, switched to X-ray vision. He saw Mary hesitate, then slump. She reluctantly took the papers.

Lex's man said, _"Thank you, Mrs. Daugherty." _No reply from her.

Clark saw the man coming towards them. He knew this particular security guy from his previous trips to the mansion, and the man knew Clark. Also, John Neun was a smart cookie, and one of the guards who reported to Lex quite a bit. Clark didn't want any awkward meetings now.

Quickly Clark slipped into superspeed and picked up Chloe. He raced down the corridor, going past another turning, till they were out of possible contact with Lex's man. He slipped back into regular time and set Chloe down.

Her eyes widened at the sudden change. "Do you mind?" she asked acidly. Then, as she overcame the disorientation, she challenged him. "I'm guessing that you had a good reason to teleport us here?"

"It's not teleportation, Chloe – " Clark said tiredly.

"That was a joke, Clark. I know it's not teleportation." Chloe kicked herself as she realized she might have brought up inadvertent memories of Alicia, Clark's erstwhile wife, now dead. In a warmer tone, Chloe asked, "What was it?"

"One of Lex's security guys was at Mary Daugherty's counter. We know each other and I didn't want him to see us. He was giving Mary some papers to file." Clark turned to look at Chloe. "I'm guessing it's illegal somehow, because he was using extortion."

"Extortion?" Chloe's voice became reportorial. And interested.

"What he said was, _'You take the papers. You file the papers. Your husband keeps his job. Your family keeps their health insurance.' _"

"So that's it," Chloe mused. "The old lose-your-job ploy again." She sounded bitter. "Why not? It worked against me and my dad."

"Only for a while," Clark said soothingly. "And your father was proud of you. And it worked out OK in the end."

"Only because you know another billionaire who wasn't afraid of the Luthor blacklist," Chloe replied bitterly. "And there were only the two of us. And we were healthy. We could go without insurance for awhile."

Clark felt like hitting himself. Of course! Mary didn't dare lose the insurance. Perdita in a coma….

"We've got to talk with her," he said to Chloe.

Together they walked back down the long hallway to the Records Office. The folder that Lex's man had brought was still sitting on the marble counter, and Mary stood staring at it as if it were a snake.

"Mrs. Daugherty," Chloe began.

Mary looked up. Clark saw an expression of desolation cross her face for just a moment; he wondered if Chloe had caught it before Mary put on her "serve-the-public" smile.

"Chloe Sullivan? How are you? I heard that you were working for the _Daily Planet _now!" Mary gushed. "I always knew you were headed there. All the times you came in here to research something for the _Torch…_"

"Mrs. Daugherty, we heard Mr. Neun talk to you." Chloe stared Mary straight in the eye. "And we know something isn't right. What are those papers you're supposed to file?"

Mary looked away guiltily. "Nothing," she said lamely.

Chloe, annoyed, reached for the folder. "If they're nothing, you won't mind me looking at them."

Mary pulled the file out from under Chloe's hand. "Court papers are confidential," she hissed.

Clark stepped forward, defusing the coming Chloe blowup. "Mrs. Daugherty," he said in a calming voice, "we're not accusing you of anything." He caught Chloe rolling her eyes out of the corner of his vision; he hoped Mary hadn't seen that. "Let's just talk hypothetically here."

"OK," Mary said warily.

"Let's just say, hypothetically, that we had a friend in Belle Reve, and that he had been involuntarily committed." Clark stared her in the eye. She stared back, saying nothing.

Clark continued. "And, let's say, that powerful people have an interest in keeping him in Belle Reve, although of course we couldn't say why.' He caught a glimpse of interest in Mary's eyes; she was no stranger to the police reports, property damage, and court cases generated by the meteor freaks using their powers for ill. Obviously, she'd made the connection here.

"But he really doesn't belong there, and he hasn't had a chance to state his case in front of a judge. Even though he's supposed to get that chance. Or those chances – at least one every six months." Clark kept his tone serious. Mary looked away again.

"And, again, just hypothetically speaking, if he got a lawyer and could prove he hadn't had those reviews, he'd get out of Belle Reve."

Mary stood straighter, seemed to gather herself. "This is all very interesting, Clark, but what does it have to do with me?"

"Well, again just speaking of something that wouldn't happen in the real world, of course –"

"Of course," she echoed sarcastically.

"—those powerful people might result to using forged papers to keep someone in Belle Reve. But they'd need to get the papers into the system somehow."

"Go on," Mary said stiffly.

"And I think they'd have a hard time at first, because, you know, the Smallville court system just doesn't work like that. The courthouse workers here are really dedicated." Clark gave her another hard glance. "And honest." Mary looked away again. "But if these powerful people had a handle on someone…"

Mary sighed and slumped. She eyed Chloe, standing there, alert but silent. Clark sat still, awaiting her answer. Then Mary pulled the file further away from the other two.

"I'm sorry, Clark, I can't help you," she said deliberately. Clark heard her whisper under her breath, so low that only superhearing could have picked it up, _"I don't dare."_

Chloe came forward to the counter again, leaned over the edge. She spoke in a low, tense voice. "It's going to come out, you know. You can't hide it forever."

Mrs. Daugherty didn't reply. She looked away, then pulled the folder off the counter, and carried it to the shelves in the back. "Good-bye," she told them, walking away.


	26. Not The Person I Thought I Was

Clark let out a long sigh. He and Chloe stared at each other.

"I really didn't think she would do that," Chloe said softly. "She always was so…so…such a do-it-right kind of a person. I never thought…"

Clark triggered the x-ray vision and stared through the wall. He saw Mary, slumped at a table, the folder on the table before her. She held her head in her hands. She didn't move.

"I think they've got a tight hold on her, Chloe," he said gently. "We'll have to go at this another way."

"I'll investigate," Chloe said. Then a frown creased her brow. "Should we tell Mr. Cooney about this?"

"I think we have to," Clark replied. "We just don't have any proof that we can take to the court. It's all hearsay."

"Well, I'm assuming that that folder includes paperwork for Mike, so that it looks like he belongs in Belle Reve." Chloe asked him questioningly, "Did you get a look, you know?"

"A look?"

"Gosh, are you obtuse sometimes, Clark." Exasperation tinged her voice. "Couldn't you have looked through the folder and seen what was in there? What if it was it more than just Mike? That folder was pretty thick."

Clark felt stupid. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Chloe put her hands on her hips, turned to face him. "So I'm guessing the answer is no."

"You're right on that."

"So we don't know what was in that folder."

"Chloe, all right! No need to keep harping on it!" Clark said irritably. He calmed himself. "We'll work it out somehow."

Her reply was cut off by the jaunty approach of James Cooney, the lawyer sent by Oliver Queen.

"Hello again!" he called to them.

"What's the story?" Chloe asked, walking to him. Clark followed.

The lawyer smiled. "It's good news and bad news."

"What?"

"The good news is that I got hearings for your friend Mr. Reilly, both for his committal to Belle Reve and for the child custody."

"What's the bad news?" Chloe asked.

"The hearings aren't till tomorrow. I like to come in with a surprise attack. This will give the other side more time to prepare than I'd like." The lawyer drummed his fingers on his pant leg for a moment. "Oh well, we'll deal with it."

The three headed down the cool stone-walled hallway. Cooney kept on talking, working out his plan.

"I'm going to go to Belle Reve and see my client," he said. "Now, I have to know the status of Rachel. The Senator had said that she could keep the child this morning, but that she had to go to Topeka for the afternoon."

"That's right," Clark said warily.

"Who will be taking care of the child?" James asked.

"I guess it would be me," Clark admitted.

"Are you alone?" the lawyer asked, spearing Clark with his gaze.

"Well, there's Shelby…"

"That won't do," Cooney said punctiliously. "We've got to be…got to have the appearance of being squeaky-clean here." Chloe smiled at the incongruous expression from the geeky-looking lawyer.

James Cooney continued. "Chloe, would you be able to stay?"

"Stay?"

"It would look bad for our case to have Rachel alone on the farm with an adult male not of her family or her foster family."

Clark stopped walking. "Now wait a minute…"

The lawyer stopped, turned to face him and Chloe. "Clark, I know it's insulting. But we have to be able to swear Rachel was, um…"

"Chaperoned," Chloe interjected.

"Exactly," James replied.

Clark looked at Chloe. She looked back. A big smile cracked her lips. "So, I'm forced to hang out at the Kent Farm today?" Chloe asked rhetorically.

Clark got a matching smile. "I know you'll miss the _Planet_," he said. "I'll try and make it up to you." Then he stumbled, not sure what else to say. The two exchanged significant glances as Clark stuttered, tongue-tied, "Um…"

"Well, that's settled then," the lawyer said briskly. "I'm heading out now to Belle Reve. Can I contact you back at the farm?"

"Um, yes," Clark said, still distracted at the thought of Chloe spending a whole day with him, untrammeled by _Planet_deadlines, editorial phone calls, and annoying photographer boyfriends.

"Oh, and will you call your friends Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. You don't think they'll need a subpoena, do you? Warn them that I'm going to call them about appearing in court for the foster care hearing." James said as he strode away briskly.

"We'll do that," Chloe called to him. "No, you don't need to subpoena them. They'll come." The lawyer gave her a wave as he reached the exit doors.

"I guess we'd better get back," Clark said. "My mom probably has to get to Topeka." He turned to Chloe. "Chloe, thanks for stepping in there."

"Oh, Clark, it's not like I hadn't planned to spend the day researching this anyway," she said. "Anyway, how could I let Mike down? Now that I know what he's like…"

"He'd do the same for you?" Clark ventured.

"Yes. He would." Chloe replied firmly. She looked at him. "And you would too, if you were in that situation."

Clark nodded. Then his eyes widened. "Chloe?"

"Yes?"

"We forgot to mention the papers and Mrs. Daugherty."

"Damn!" she swore. Then she sighed. "Well, I don't want to discuss it over the phone, so we'll have to wait till we see him back at the farm."

"Which is where we're headed right now." The two began walked out to the parking lot. Clark opened his truck doors and they headed back to the Kent Farm.

* * *

Mary Daugherty sat at a work table in the back office after Clark and Chloe left. She held her head in her hands. The manila folder that Lex's man had delivered to her sat ignored at the table edge.

_What's becoming of me? _She thought. _What kind of a person am I becoming? _She'd always tried to do the right thing. Now she was a cheater, a liar, a person who was an accessory to perjury. Or something like that. Whatever it was, she was sure it was illegal.

Mary had been able to blind herself to the fate of those mentioned in the papers she filed. She'd read a few of the (presumably forged, but very authentic-looking) papers and most of them had to do with keeping people in Belle Reve. There were some others that seemed to be addenda to police reports and court cases.

But she'd deliberately not read most of the papers. She didn't want to know. Uncomfortably, she thought of the stories she'd read about the Germans who'd lived nearby the concentration camps during the Second World War. They knew what was going on in there. They knew, but they didn't want to admit it. And she was the same way. A sin of commission, to file the forged papers. A sin of omission, to not read the papers, not find out what she should face.

Her once-strong inner faith had begun to crumble. Mary knew she was doing wrong. She was lying. She had tried to confess it, but couldn't. She knew that true penance and remission from sin involved a commitment to do the sin no more. And she couldn't promise that.

Now her family life was in tatters, and every day at work was a tightrope walk over the chasm of discovery. Work had been a refuge, before, a place where she ruled her domain and did good works, or at least did her job to the best of her ability. The knowledge that she was conniving at illegalities and probably hurting people ruined her sleep, poisoned her days.

She'd expected, and gotten, the unspoken scorn and contempt from Chloe Sullivan; the young reporter had high standards. But, strangely enough, what really hurt Mary was the disappointment in Clark Kent's eyes. As if, somehow, he expected her to do better.

"_I'm not the person I thought I was,"_ she said to herself. Bitter words indeed.


	27. Prelude to the Court Hearing

Dr. Caselli threw his keys on the bed, hard, in disgust. And to think that at this time last night he'd thought things were going well! Obviously, saying things like that aroused the wrath of the gods.

The day had started well with the early morning return of Michael Reilly and the promise of soon being able to duplicate his meteor ability. Caselli had gone back to sleep after the early morning encounter with a light heart.

The good mood had persisted throughout his morning ablutions. As Caselli donned his conservative suit, he mentally counted his bonus. He'd gone through morning rounds, doing the minimum necessary. He received a salary from the state for "care" of the Belle Reve inmates. He'd long ago decided that since the state paid him so little, he was going to do exactly what they paid him for, and no more. More time for his extracurricular activities.

The first blow had come at lunch time. Michael Reilly had a lawyer! Not only that, the lawyer demanded a consultation with his client and wouldn't be put off. Caselli, caught off guard, hadn't been able to deny the nosy bastard.

Of course, he'd put them in a monitored conference room and had recorded their conversation. (Patients – the state inmates – in therapy routinely had their sessions recorded for later review, a fact which had come in handy more than once.)

Unfortunately, the conference between Reilly and his lawyer hadn't been very illuminating. The lawyer said outright to Reilly that he thought they might be monitored, and that Reilly should be careful what he said. Then, after coming out of the conference room, the lawyer had slapped him with a summons to appear in court. Tomorrow! He had to disrupt his schedule and go in tomorrow, to court, to defend his committal of Reilly!

Caselli thought about telling Lex Luthor. He'd thought about it for some time. In the end, he decided not to. On one hand, he still had control over the daughter; Reilly would be an obedient patient, knowing his daughter was at risk. On the other hand, he didn't want to appear to be a mama's boy, running to Lex at every little setback. An unspoken subtext of their relationship was that Caselli handled problems, and gave Lex results.

Caselli did compromise by calling his contact at the Luthorcorp legal department. If they told Lex, OK. At least it wasn't himself. Old adages about being the bearer of bad tidings came to mind.

So, all in all, a not insurmountable setback. Then the other shoe dropped. He'd gotten a call from Hansen, the foster he placed the daughter with.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he had screamed at the man. Didn't the fool know….didn't he understand….Caselli had just lost his lever.

The man had been abashed, mumbled some lame excuse. Caselli knew better – Hansen had been drunk. He'd warned the other man about that. But Hansen was a lush. Caselli hadn't minded that, it made him easier to control. But this time it had backfired on him.

Not only that, the oaf didn't even know where the daughter was! So, in the best possible scenario, even if they got the daughter back, the court would certainly assign her to another foster family. Caselli didn't know if he'd be able to influence this assignment as he had the first time.

Caselli had curtly hung up on Hansen after telling the man to find the girl, in any way possible. Maybe it would work. More likely, the fool would probably just start drinking again.

After the phone call from Hansen, Caselli had put in a second, more urgent call, to his contact at Luthorcorp Legal. Then the two of them had arranged representation for Caselli and Belle Reve for the hearing tomorrow. Belle Reve had a legal staff on retainer. Unfortunately, the lawyers who would work for the pittance the state paid were, putting it charitably, not the cream of the crop. Caselli wasn't about to entrust his future to those….newbies.

So, in the end, it worked out that Paul Hines, the Belle Reve state-paid attorney, would go to court with him, but Caselli would rely more on the Luthorcorp attorney, George Burns, who would masquerade as Caselli's personal attorney. Actually, it wasn't a masquerade – he _would be _Caselli's personal attorney. He just had a much better understanding of the subtle dynamics between Caselli, the patients, and Lex Luthor than Hines would have.

Dr. Caselli had also told Burns about the missing Reilly child. The attorney had sucked in his breath and then said he'd get some people on it. That made Caselli feel a bit better. But the doctor, feeling the need for some redundancy here, also called some people he knew from his work with the local Family. He didn't just owe money to the Family. Caselli had a unique relationship with them; they cut him a lot more slack than other debtors, due to him using his professional talents and degree for the Family.

So his contact, Randy, had agreed to look for the daughter as well. Caselli knew this meant the resources of the Family were behind Randy as well. Hopefully, with both Luthorcorp and the local organization looking for Rachel Reilly, she'd turn up in no time.

The rest of the day had been spent in a mad scramble to get caught up and get ready. That Reilly was really annoying – no other inmate had gotten to be this much trouble. It was a good thing that Burns at Luthorcorp Legal had confirmed that Reilly's papers were all in order. When the judge saw those, along with Caselli's testimony, Reilly would be put away in Belle Reve for good.

That still didn't make up for the way he'd ruined Caselli's day.

* * *

Rachel smiled. This was the best day she'd had.

When Clark and Chloe got back to the farm, they explained to Martha why Chloe had to stay. Mrs. Kent shrugged. Working with legislators had accustomed her to picayune quibbles.

"I'm just glad you can stay, Chloe," she said. "I've really got to get to Topeka soon." Martha put on her jacket. "I've got some leftover soup, and Clark can put something together for lunch. And dinner, too, if I'm not back – I might be really late."

"If it's really late, Mom, just stay over," Clark urged her.

"I just might," she replied. "Rachel, it's been nice having you over. Clark and Chloe will be with you today." She hugged Clark and Chloe, then left.

"Love you, Mom," Clark said softly as the dust from Martha's vehicle settled in the lane. He straightened his shoulders, turned to look back at Chloe and Rachel.

"Rachel, I don't know how much of the farm my Mom has shown you already…" Clark asked her, uncertain.

"We just went around the buildings," the girl replied, already less shy with Clark.

"Well, let's get some lunch, and then we can do…something," Clark said lamely, not sure how to entertain an eleven-year-old.

"Clark has to do chores, but I'm sure that you want to see what a _Daily Planet_ reporter does," Chloe stepped in. "I think we should prepare for tomorrow's court appearance."

Rachel said nothing, just looked curious. Chloe explained about the hearings scheduled for tomorrow. She had Rachel's interest right away, and they chattered together as Clark threw together an impromptu lunch. He wasn't as good as his mother at feeding eight people on no notice, but at least he could get a basic meal together. It was a good thing, because Chloe lived on coffee and vending-machine muffins.

After lunch, Chloe dispatched Clark to drag down his laptop from the loft, and put Rachel to work on it. The young girl seemed engrossed, and Clark pulled Chloe away into the living room.

"Can you keep her on that for the next half-hour or so?" he asked Chloe.

"No problem, but why?" she asked.

"I've got some chores to do. If I don't use super-speed, it'll take me hours," Clark admitted. "Try and keep her inside."

"OK," Chloe said. Worry in her voice, she added, "You be sure to look around. I'm sure that people are looking for Rachel, and it won't be hard to find out that she ended up here." She gently punched him on the shoulder. "So keep an eye out."

"I will," Clark promised.

The afternoon passed without incident, with Chloe keeping Rachel occupied. Clark had a productive afternoon, despite stopping frequently to scan the area for hidden observers. If Rachel had been traced, the seekers hadn't gotten this far yet.

Clark invited Rachel out to the five o'clock milking, conscious that she'd been in the house all afternoon. Chloe came out too, smiling at Rachel's excitement, but stood well back of the manure.

"The machine does most of the work," Clark told Rachel. "We just need to do the final stripping and get the last bit of milk out of the udder." He sat Rachel down on the milking stool and demonstrated the gentle pull on the teats. After a few false starts, she grinned when a stream of milk plashed into the bucket.

"Now do that to all the teats," Clark said. Rachel did, growing more confident with each successful attempt. Clark came by and checked the cow; he lifted one eyebrow when he got only a few drops more. "Very good for your first time," he said approvingly.

Next he showed Rachel how to do the teat dip, and released the cow from the milking parlor. "Now we just have to do that to the next nineteen cows," he told her.

"OK!" Rachel exclaimed, still caught up in the fun of discovery. Chloe gave a wry smile.

"Want to help, Chloe?" Clark challenged her laughingly.

"That's OK, Clark, I'm sure Rachel can handle it," Chloe replied dryly. "Besides, I only have my dress shoes. I'm seriously lacking in the farm boot department today."

"I could get you a pair of my mother's," Clark persisted, teasing her.

"That's quite all right, Clark," Chloe laughed back. "I'm a Metropolis girl at heart. I want to get my milk pasteurized and homogenized in plastic jugs."

Clark just nodded, then smiled as he turned back to Rachel and the cows.

They were on the last two cows when Clark heard the lawyer's car drive up. By the time the last cow had been put back in her night stall, Cooney had found them.

"Just wanted you to know that we're all set for tomorrow," the lawyer said. "Rachel, you have to be ready to be in court at 10:00 a.m."

"That means we want to leave the farm no later than 9:15", Clark told Rachel.

"So early, Clark?" Chloe asked.

"I want to make sure there's no slip-ups," he replied. Clark turned back to Rachel. "I'll wake you up at 8:30. Is that OK?"

"OK," the girl replied.

"Seven-thirty for me, Clark," Chloe told him sweetly. "Some of us need a little more time to get ready." At Clark's bemused expression, she said, "I'm going to stay till your mother comes back, and if she spends the night in Topeka, I'm spending the night here."

"OK," Clark blurted.


	28. Finding Those Elusive Papers

"All rise," the bailiff intoned, as Judge Morandini strode into his courtroom.

Chloe and Clark, from their bench seats in the sparsely populated courtroom, obediently stood. Chloe took advantage of the sound produced by people re-seating themselves to say to Clark, "I'm impressed by how much James got done in such a short time."

"Me too," Clark said as they sat back down. Mike's lawyer had had a conference with his client yesterday, then had prepared his cases. Clark didn't know how Cooney had obtained it in Smallville, but he'd managed to get a well-fitting, conservative two-piece suit for Mike, in less than eight hours. Plus appropriate tie, socks, and shoes.

When Mike had entered the courthouse that morning, he'd been dressed in "Belle Reve whites", the slang term for the loose-fitting cotton top and pants worn by inmates. The "whites" were notorious for lacking metal fittings, zippers, drawstrings, and anything else that might be used to harm oneself or others. Unfortunately, in Lowell County and neighboring environs, the clothing carried almost as much stigma as prison-orange jumpsuits did.

Cooney had met his client in the halls, and despite protestations, had deftly separated him from Dr. Caselli, the Belle Reve lawyers, and another minion of doubtful purpose whom Clark recognized as John Neun, the man who'd given Mary Daugherty the file of forged papers the day before. Clark was a little surprised that a Luthorcorp employee would be so openly associated with the Belle Reve contingent. Lex was usually a little smoother than that.

Mike Reilly had looked a lot happier at the sight of James, and the two had disappeared down a hallway. When they returned a few minutes later, Mike was dressed for success and the "whites" had disappeared. Somehow, too, Mike had gotten a better shave and even a bit of a haircut. He no longer looked like a caveman-wannabe; instead, he projected an air of trust and solidity.

"You've got the…um, stuff, safe, don't you, Chloe?" Clark asked, brought back to the moment by the judge's gavel striking the block.

"Right here in my bag," she reassured him, patting the tote next to her. "I still can't believe…."

"Shh," Clark warned her. Chloe contented herself with smiling brilliantly at him.

He felt like smiling himself. He'd taken advantage of the confusion caused by James' extracting Mike from the clutches of the Belle Reve party. During the (admittedly mild) hubbub, Clark had supersped to the Belle Reve lawyer's briefcase, had opened it and read the files enclosed. Burns, the attorney, seemed to be an efficient packer, because the only paperwork inside concerned Mike Reilly and also Rachel.

With just a twinge of conscience at the invasion of privacy, Clark had abstracted the (presumably fictitious) paperwork that said Mike had had several psychiatric reviews and had failed them all. The papers looked very authentic, with courthouse stamps; had Clark not known the true story, they would have convinced him.

After his bit of petty thievery, Clark had sped the briefcase back to where the lawyer had set it down on the floor. Wondering how much of his actions would be visible, he'd asked Chloe to look at it during his exercise.

"I saw it just, um, flicker, for a minute, Clark," she told him, after he pulled her around a corner. "I think everyone else was looking at Mike and James and the argument." Chloe grinned. "God, you're amazing. I know I've said it before…"

"Here's the papers, " Clark said, cutting her off. Chloe took a minute to scan over them.

"I'm sure these will be helpful in some way, although I don't know how yet," she said. "I know there's going to be some sort of article on this…how can I work these in…." Her gaze became abstracted as she considered options.

"Let's get to the courtroom, Chloe," Clark said.

Now they sat as Judge Morandini seated himself. A heavy-set, middle-aged man, with gray touching the temples of his dark hair, the judge had a reputation as being tough. He didn't put up with dithering or meandering in his courtroom.

Clark was a little worried, though. From what Chloe had said (she had attended numerous court proceedings and had a pretty good idea of the temperament of all the judges – all three of them – in Lowell County), Judge Morandini was very likely to give the benefit of the doubt to Belle Reve. He'd been a judge in Smallville for twenty-six years, and was no stranger to the meteor-infected. Maybe, at first, he'd thought the idea of humans with strange powers to be fruitcake, but, like everyone else in Smallville, the judge accepted it now. And from what Chloe knew of him, he would come down hard on those who abused their powers.

"Mr. Cooney?" The judge asked. "You requested this hearing."

"Yes, Your Honor," James said, approaching the bench. "My client, Mr. Reilly, has been unjustly incarcerated in the Belle Reve Asylum. He initially went in as a seventy-two hour committal…" the lawyer went through the situation.

Clark and Chloe noticed the Belle Reve lawyer, George Burns, opening his briefcase and flipping through papers as James spoke. Burns went through the file, then stiffened, then returned to the manila folder and began checking each sheet individually but quickly. Clark smiled as he saw Burns running his hand down the lining of the briefcase.

The Belle Reve lawyer turned and gestured to John Neun, sitting in the spectator area not far away.

"Reilly's papers aren't here!" Clark heard Burns' low, hissed voice.

"I gave you them this morning," Neun protested. Burns cast a glance at James Cooney and the judge; Cooney seemed to be moving along quickly.

"Go to that courthouse clerk and get the Reilly papers out of her file!" Burns ordered the Luthorcorp minion. "You delivered the papers yesterday, right?" The question was obviously rhetorical as Neun got up and briskly strode to the courtroom exit doors.

_Why didn't I take care of those papers too? _Clark thought, mentally kicking himself. God, he could be such an idiot sometimes. No matter, he'd go now. Even if he had to rip the papers out of Neun's hands, he'd make sure Caselli and his henchmen wouldn't have the evidence they needed to keep Mike in Belle Reve. Clark got up too, followed the Luthorcorp man out into the quiet, dim hallway.

Clark kept a fair distance back from Neun as the latter approached the Records desk. Mrs. Daugherty came to the counter, her welcoming smile chopped off when she realized who it was.

_"I need the Reilly file,"_ Neun told her, not bothering to dress up the words with a courteous tone. Mary said nothing, did nothing. Except that she looked down the hallway and caught Clark's eye. Clark quickly looked away; she wouldn't want him seeing her humiliation.

_"Now!"_ the man almost shouted.

Mary disappeared back into the Records office. Clark stood on the balls of his feet. _When she brings the file back, I'll superspeed there and take out the papers…."_

"Clark!" A cheery voice interrupted his planning. "How are you doing?"

"Erin," Clark said, internally sighing. "I'm OK, how are you?" This was bad. It looked like Erin wanted to make conversation. Super-speeding was definitely not possible in those conditions – he'd leave a blur, or a flicker, or something. Chloe had told him that if she looked right at him when he sped away and came back, she could tell something was up. And since Erin was staring at him, and there were no other people in the hallway to distract her, speeding in front of her would be a definite no-no.

"I didn't expect you back in the courthouse, Clark," Erin continued. Clark cast a desperate eye down at the Records counter as he said, "Well, I'm here for a friend's hearing."

Mary had brought the file back out. Erin said, "Oh, really? Who?"

"Mike Reilly," Clark said absently as he watched Neun open the manila folder and go through the papers.

"Don't know him, Clark," Erin said cheerfully. "But you seem to know everybody." Tactfully, she refrained from asking Clark what the hearing was about. No doubt she could find it out easily, or she already knew, Clark thought.

Clark cast another glance at Neun facing Mary over the Records counter. "Not as many people as you know, Erin," he said, wanting her to go away. Neun had a frown on his face as he leaned over the counter and spoke to Mary.

_"Where is it? Where are those papers?"_ Clark could hear the Luthorcorp man saying tensely to Mary.

"How's Chloe?" Erin asked. Clark jumped. He'd upped his hearing to listen to what Neun was saying, and now it sounded as if Erin was shouting in his ear.

"Um…she's fine," Clark said lamely, trying to look at Erin while listening to the conversation down the hall.

_"That's all the papers there were in this file," _he heard Mary Daugherty reply.

Clark moved down the hall, closer to the Records Counter, as he saw Neun lift his arms. Was he going to physically threaten Mary?

Erin trailed off her chatter as she turned to follow Clark and saw the tense confrontation at the Records counter. "Who's that guy?" she asked. Clark just continued walking towards the pair.

Neun saw Clark and Erin approaching. He lowered his arms and stepped back from the counter, grabbing the file as he went. With a curt nod at Mary, he headed back to the courtroom.

Clark caught Mary Daugherty's eye. She stood, straight and true. This time Clark looked away first.


	29. The Sanity Clause

"Bye, Erin," Clark said hastily. "I've got to get back." He followed John Neun, focusing his x-ray vision on the folder in the man's hand. The regular back-and-forth motion of the hand in walking gave him a queasy feeling as he tried to read the papers. But Clark persevered and was rewarded. The file contained nothing different than what Clark had left in the Belle Reve lawyer's briefcase after extracting the forged psychiatric reviews.

When Clark followed the Luthorcorp minion back into the courtroom, Mike was on the stand. Clark slipped into the seat next to Chloe.

"Everything's OK," he volunteered, before she started questioning him. "I'll tell you all about it later." Clark looked curiously at Reilly. "What's Mike doing there?" he asked Chloe.

"I think it's a case of the Belle Reve attorney grasping at straws," she said. "When he looked in his briefcase and couldn't find the papers, he called Mike to the stand. I think he's hoping to get Mike to look crazy."

"I hope Mike doesn't say anything about meteor powers," Clark said, concerned.

"I get the impression that James has done some coaching," Chloe said. "So far, Mike looks pretty sane."

Clark had to agree. The conservative suit, the neatly barbered hair, the polished shoes, and most of all, the erect bearing and confident attitude showed a man who bore no resemblance to the usual cringing or blustering Belle Reve inmate.

Clark turned his attention to the stand. Burns, the Belle Reve attorney, asked Mike, "Can you go over the circumstances of your committal in Belle Reve?"

Mike sat straight and looked the attorney in the eye. "After my wife passed away in a car accident, I had some trouble adjusting to daily life. The grief…"

"Please continue," Burns said in a silky tone.

"I went to Dr. Caselli for help coping with my loss. He put me into Belle Reve. I thought it would be a temporary thing. Now I've been there for over a year. I've been held a prisoner there."

"This is a very serious accusation, Mr. Reilly," the judge interjected. "Although it is my policy to give a great deal of latitude to Dr. Caselli and the other physicians at Belle Reve in regard to involuntary committals, they are required to submit frequent reviews of those cases." Judge Morandini sat back and speared the Belle Reve attorney with his glance. "Mr. Burns, what have you to say to this accusation?"

The lawyer kept an urbane countenance. "Mr. Reilly is mistaken, Your Honor. If I may call Dr. Caselli to the stand, we can refute Mr. Reilly's mistaken impression."

"A polite way of calling Mike a liar," Chloe whispered to Clark.

"Is there any objection?" Judge Morandini said, looking at Reilly's attorney James Cooney.

"None, your Honor," Cooney said cheerfully. "We want to get the whole thing out in the sunshine." He leaned back in his chair, crossed his feet confidently.

During the momentary pause while Dr. Caselli was called to the stand and sworn in, the Luthorcorp man, Neun, edged his way up to the attorney's table. He passed the manila folder to the Belle Reve lawyer. Burns opened the folder, paged through the papers, and swallowed. Clark extended his hearing again, and listened to Burns saying, _"This isn't what we need!" _

Neun replied, _"It's what was there. That's what the clerk gave me."_

Burns flipped the file shut with an air of finality. Clark saw him visibly compose himself. _"How am I supposed to do my job when you're not doing yours?" _ he hissed under his breath. _"Now we're in trouble!" _

Neun shuffled nervously. _"I'm sorry, Mr. Burns." _

The bailiff finished swearing in Dr. Caselli. "Your witness," called Judge Morandini.

Burns turned to Neun for one last comment. _"Make sure the clerk gets taken care of," _he said, very quietly. Neun nodded, and headed back to his seat. Burns turned to face the bench again.

"Dr. Caselli, I know you have testified before this court numerous times before. To save time, I ask my colleague if he will stipulate to Dr. Caselli's professional qualifications."

Cooney smiled. "Your Honor, I'm familiar with Dr. Caselli's qualifications. To save time, I'm willing to stipulate that, subject to the right of cross-examination."

"So stipulated," the judge ruled.

The Belle Reve attorney addressed his questions to Dr. Caselli. "Doctor, in your own words, would you please tell us the circumstances surrounding Mr. Reilly's committal?"

Caselli sat back in the witness chair, outwardly calm. Clark, though, heard his heartbeat speed up.

"Mr. Reilly came to me a short time after his wife had been killed in a tragic auto accident. He was suffering from extreme grief and depression. I found him to be suicidal, and with his military background, there was a risk that he would arrange a confrontation that would involve innocent bystanders."

"A confrontation?" Burns asked.

"Yes. The common term for this is "suicide by cop", where a mentally ill person takes hostages or puts himself into a situation where a police officer is forced to kill that person." Dr. Caselli smiled slightly.

"And what has happened since then?" Burns probed.

"In regular sessions, we are making some progress, but in my professional opinion, Mr. Reilly is still a danger to himself and others," Caselli said.

Judge Morandini looked at Mike disapprovingly, and leaned slightly backwards in his seat.

James Cooney still sat casually at his table, smiling.

"Your witness," the Belle Reve attorney said.

James rose, walked slowly to Dr. Caselli. "Doctor, I respect your professional qualifications. You've been a psychiatrist for…how long is it?"

"Twenty-two years," Caselli snapped.

"And you've seen many of the patients at Belle Reve? That is, many of the seriously mentally ill patients?"

"The_dangerous _patients," Caselli said.

"I'm sure you have quite a bit of clinical experience," Cooney said soothingly. "You must have a heavy caseload."

"The residents and other staff members, we divide up the cases so no one doctor is overloaded," Caselli replied.

"Nonetheless, I would hope that, with such a serious condition, that you would have a good knowledge of Mr. Reilly's background and condition at this time," Cooney said.

"We have had many sessions together," the doctor said warily.

"Then I'm sure you remember that Mr. Reilly was honorably discharged from the Marine Corps four years ago, after a stint in hazardous conditions."

The doctor said nothing.

"Hazardous conditions being a euphemism, doctor, for a war zone." James' voice took on a more strident tone. "Mr. Reilly lost members of his unit in very stressful conditions. And what did he do?"

The doctor said nothing again at this obviously rhetorical question.

Cooney continued, gesturing. "He got his unit out of a difficult situation. Mr. Reilly finished his tour of duty and was honorably discharged. Then he was hired with Excel Industries in Metropolis, where his employment record shows he performed steadily and well, with several commendations in his employee record. But I'm sure you're aware of that, doctor," Cooney said sarcastically.

"Yes," Caselli replied shortly. Frankly, based on the man's heartbeat, Clark thought he was lying.

"Mr. Reilly resigned his position with Excel Industries after his wife died, and he moved to Smallville for a change of scenery," James continued. "I submit to you," James said, overtly addressing Caselli but looking up at Judge Morandini, "how likely is it that a man who has faced death of close friends in extremely stressful conditions before, and has remained stable, will suddenly turn into a homicidal-suicidal maniac?"

Caselli swallowed. "Each person responds to grief and loss differently at different times." He grew a little more confident. "If you will review my case notes in the medical record, you will see the basis for my diagnosis."

"And you have filed updates with the court as required by law?" Cooney asked intently, staring Caselli in the face.

"Yes, sir," Caselli replied.

James turned back to his table. "I subpoenaed Mr. Reilly's medical record yesterday." He pulled out a thick binder. "I'm very interested in the sessions you've had with Mr. Reilly."

Caselli blanched.

Cooney continued. "I see that you've had a total of six sessions with him." He turned to face the judge. "Six sessions. In twelve months. And the last session was three months ago."

Caselli said nothing. He'd gotten sloppy. He used to make some fictitious case notes after each real session – the information-gathering, Luthorcorp-sponsored, scanning/monitoring sessions – but the past few times, he'd been busy reviewing the data, sending it to Lex Luthor, and thinking about his own financial trouble. He'd planned on inserting some case notes this week, but the sudden hearing had caught him by surprise.

"Not only that, Your Honor," James said, now obviously addressing the bench, "there is no record of the required six-month court reviews. As I'm sure the Court is aware, a person who is involuntarily committed to Belle Reve must have his case reviewed at least every six months and the court must agree to extend the committal. Mr. Reilly's file is lacking these."

Judge Morandini frowned. "Let me see that record," he said. James brought it to him, and the courtroom sat in a hushed silence while the judge turned page after page. Finally the judge looked up.

"Mr. Burns?" the judge asked in a stern voice. "You're here on behalf of Belle Reve. Where are the commitment reviews for Mr. Reilly?"

"Your Honor, um…we thought we had them, but we, um, seem to have mislaid them."

The judge sat back in his chair with an air of finality. "Mislaid them?" he asked in a dangerous voice.

Before the Belle Reve lawyer could reply, James Cooney said, "Your Honor, my client, an upstanding and stable man, has been the victim of bureaucratic neglect. He's been thrown in Belle Reve and left to rot." The lawyer gestured widely. "I ask that the court order my client released and an apology from Belle Reve and Dr. Caselli placed into his medical and legal records."

Caselli looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

Judge Morandini looked at Caselli and Burns. "Gentlemen, are you able to present any evidence to refute Mr. Cooney's statement?"

Both remained silent.

The judge continued. "I am very disappointed, gentlemen. A man is not a piece of trash, to be thrown away and forgotten. Such flagrant violation of Mr. Reilly's rights...I expected better of you, Dr. Caselli, Mr. Burns." The withering tone was at odds with the mild words. The two men looked at the floor.

Judge Morandini straightened his shoulders and spoke in a commanding judicial voice. "Mr. Reilly will be released from Belle Reve, effective immediately. Dr. Caselli, Mr. Burns, you will complete the paperwork per Mr. Cooney's request. Mr. Cooney, and this court, will review the paperwork no later than three days from now, to make sure it is satisfactory."

Caselli now looked like he'd swallowed _two_lemons.

The judge banged his gavel. "So ordered. Court is adjourned."


	30. An Apparent Victory

The group gathered around the Talon tables for a victory celebration. Clark thought the faux-Egyptian art-deco look had never seemed so vibrant. The rich smell of coffee filled the air as the giant espresso-cappuccino maker hissed and vibrated.

"Did you see the look on Dr. Caselli's face when the judge passed down his order?" Chloe gloated.

"I thought he looked worse when I got custody of Rachel again," Mike Reilly replied happily. He squeezed his daughter's hand. Rachel and he hardly wanted to part; even now her small body was curled up on Mike's lap and he held her close. "Lois, Jimmy, Senator Kent, I want to thank you…"

"Glad to help," Jimmy Olsen said. "Personally, I was glad for Lois."

"What?" the brunette replied defensively. "That I didn't get charged with assault and battery?"

Mrs. Kent chimed in. "Well, Lois, you have to admit that normally, beating up a guy would get you in trouble."

"Two things," said Clark, interrupting Lois' swift rejoinder. "One, I think the judge was impressed by Jimmy's photos. Big men beating up little girls when they're supposed to be foster parents…"

"And the second thing?" Lois challenged him.

Clark smiled. "Mr. Hansen didn't want to go to court and have to admit that a girl beat him up." Teasingly, Clark said, "Actually, Lois, having been on the receiving end of your punches numerous times…"

"Don't forget it, Smallville," Lois retorted. "I could take you with my martial arts moves any time."

"I live in fear," Clark said dryly. "Please don't beat me up."

"Only when necessary," Lois told him.

"What are your plans now, Mike?" Martha asked him. She'd hardly gotten a chance to talk with him, and wondered a little at how friendly Clark and Chloe seemed.

"I'm not really sure," Mike replied. "First of all, I'm so glad to have my little peanut back." He hugged Rachel again and she smiled. He let her go to take a sip of coffee. "It's kind of weird," he said.

"Weird?" Chloe asked.

"For the first time in a lot of years, there's nothing holding me, no responsibilities." Mike took another sip of coffee, explained to the puzzled looks on the faces of those around the table. "All my stuff was put in storage and then auctioned off for non-payment of fees. I just have the clothes I'm wearing, no job, no money, no place to live." Mike smiled. "But I have my daughter, and I'm free. So life is good."

James Cooney spoke up. "Mr. Reilly, I hope that you will come with me to Metropolis. I have a job offer for you which we can discuss on the car ride. And as part of the interview process, we'll put you and your daughter up in a hotel for as long as necessary."

"It would be a good idea to get out of Smallville," Chloe mused. "Get far away from Belle Reve."

"Yes. Their tentacles are everywhere," Clark said.

"Well, with those pointed hints, I'd be glad to hear your job offer," Mike said to his lawyer.

"Well, we've got a little time here," Cooney replied. "I didn't really expect the court hearings to be resolved so quickly." He smiled. "Drinks are on me!"

"That would mean more if they actually served alcohol here," Lois muttered under her breath. Clark assumed he was the only one who'd heard that. "Double mocha cappuccino for me!" Lois said, more loudly.

James waved a waitress over and soon she was busy taking refill orders. Amidst the confusion, Clark felt as though he was being watched. He looked up. Mary Daugherty stood at the Talon entrance, staring at him. She nodded, somehow indicating she was beckoning him. The others, except for Chloe, didn't notice her presence.

Clark got up and walked to her. "Drive me to the Medical Center, Clark," Mary said, somehow combining a request and an order. Clark stood still for a moment, then nodded. He went back to his friends' table and told them.

"Mrs. Daugherty wants a ride to the Medical Center?" Chloe asked. "Do you think…" she didn't want to say more.

"Clark, of course you'll take her if she needs a ride," his mother said. Martha Kent, always ready to help, had raised her boy to be the same. The others at the table nodded.

"James, it was nice meeting you. If I need a lawyer in the future, I know who I'll call," Clark said, shaking Cooney's hand. "Lois, Chloe, Jimmy," he said, waving at them. "See you later."

He went over and kissed his mother good-bye, then turned to face Mike and Rachel. "Good luck, Mike," Clark said, shaking the man's hand firmly. Then Clark knelt down to talk with Rachel. "I hope you liked milking the cows," Clark said. "Come back anytime you want to milk them again." She gave a shy smile.

Clark turned back to Mike. "I know everything is going to go well with you," Clark said. "Contact me or Chloe if you have any problems." They exchanged a significant glance.

"Thanks for everything, Clark," Mike said fervently.

"You're welcome," Clark replied. Then he turned and walked out the door with Mrs. Daugherty.

She followed him down a block to the downtown lot where he'd parked the truck, climbed in the passenger seat, and stayed silent as Clark motored to the Smallville Medical Center. Clark, curious, considered asking her questions, talking to her, but Mary's iron countenance discouraged him. Neither spoke as he parked the truck and they made their way up to Perdita's room. Clark nodded to Sheila as he passed the nursing station; the nurse looked up from her charting and smiled, but said nothing.

As ever, Perdita's motionless body dominated the scene. Mary put down her large purse, walked to her daughter and began some range-of-motion exercises on Perdita's arms, massaged Perdita's legs. Clark sat motionless, watching the older woman care for her comatose daughter, feeling it was time to be silent, waiting for Mary to speak.

Eventually, Mrs. Daugherty finished her nursing care and sat in the chair opposite Clark. She still said nothing. Clark, however, felt it was time to ask.

"Mrs. Daugherty?" She nodded. "We won our court case," Clark said. "I know they'd asked you to put some papers in the file…"

She nodded, then swallowed. Mary turned to look at Perdita lying still amidst the sheets, the shallow rise and fall of her chest the only sign of life.

"Clark," Mary said in a wavering voice. "Clark, my life is…is in an uproar right now."

Clark nodded.

Mary's voice trembled. "And I thought….I thought, if I could do one right thing….just do something right for once…." She broke off, crying now. "Everything else is wrong, I just have to start by doing one right thing…" Her voice cracked into gasping, quiet sobs as she lowered her head.

Clark said nothing, just leaned over and touched her hand. "I'm proud of you," he said slowly, surprised to see this strong and competent woman reduced to tears. He understood the grief that came of making bad choices; he lived with his regrets every day. And Clark respected Mary for making a tough decision. "You did the right thing."

He sat quietly as she sobbed.

* * *

Dr. Caselli gritted his teeth. Once again, he cursed the hubris that had led him to think that things were going well. Saying things like that only invited the wrath of the gods.

Reilly and his daughter had just waltzed out of the courthouse. Now Reilly was out of his control, and so was the daughter. He saw the promised Luthor fat bonus vanishing. He didn't want to think what that meant. The sardonic smile that Reilly had given Caselli as the former walked out was only twisting the knife.

Not only that, Caselli would have to write some sort of fawning verbiage to satisfy Judge Morandini. Never mind that the judge had signed over fifty commitment orders in the past; now he was getting all rigid and prissy. Having to put an apology in Reilly's file would make it hard to get Reilly back in Belle Reve later on.

Caselli wasn't looking forward to calling Lex Luthor either, and telling the billionaire that he'd been close to duplicating the meteor power, but sorry, the guy had managed to get out before he could complete the work. He didn't think that Luthor would accept the excuse that he was "close." _Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, _Caselli thought.

Caselli looked at the ballpoint pen clenched in his hand and threw it angrily on the marble floor of the courthouse hallway.

The humiliation, anger, and fear coalesced to a crystalline point of hard determination. Caselli looked down the hall to make sure there were no witnesses in hearing distance. He pulled out his phone and made some calls to people he knew.

* * *

"Well, it's time for me to be getting back home," Martha Kent said. "There's still a lot to do." She set her empty cup back on the table and looked around at the Talon. The group had sat through the lunch rush and into the lull of early afternoon. "Lois, Jimmy?"

"My car's parked at the Kent Farm," Lois explained to the lawyer. She was kind of attracted to him – he was cute in a nerdy-looking way, even with the thick glasses. And Cooney had impressed her with his detailed explanation of how he'd planned to win the case, with main plans and contingency plans galore. He said he hadn't expected to win so easily on lack of documentation by the other side, but he was ready for it when it happened.

"It was nice meeting you all," Martha said, standing. The others in the group got up. "Mr. Reilly, I wish you the best in your future endeavors," she said, shaking his hand. "And Rachel, you and your father are welcome anytime on the farm."

"I can't thank you enough, Mrs. Kent," Mike said. Over the camaraderie of the Talon coffee, they'd each taken the measure of the other; both were impressed. "If there's ever anything I can do for you…"

"If you're in my district for the next election, vote for me," Martha said smiling. "Mr. Cooney, you're a remarkable lawyer. Do you think you'll be doing any work in Smallville?"

"Very little, I'm afraid, Mrs. Kent," the lawyer replied. "Most of it is in Metropolis and Topeka."

"Well, maybe I'll see you again in Topeka, then," she said. "It's been good getting together with everyone. Take care, everyone." Martha and Lois shook hands with the men, hugged Chloe and Rachel, and along with Jimmy, exited the Talon.

"It's about time for us to get going too," James Cooney said, smiling. "Chloe, I'd like to thank you for this opportunity to put another notch in my belt."

"Pleased to be of service," she said dryly. "Mike, there's a few more things I'd like to get in my interview for my _Planet_article. Would you mind making a last few comments for the record while James goes and gets the car?"

"There's a hint," Cooney said.

"More like an order," Mike replied. The two men grinned.

"Well, when James goes to get the car…" Chloe repeated. The lawyer gave another grin, got up, jingled his keys, and said, "I'm parked at the downtown lot. I'll come by and pick you up at the side entrance in a few minutes. Chloe, can I take you back to the farm?"

"No, I'll call Clark. He'll pick me up. Thanks, though," Chloe replied. As James left, whistling, Chloe looked down at Rachel and said, "Rachel, it's been nice meeting you. You take care too, and stay out of trouble."

"I want to be a newspaper reporter like you," the girl said. "Aren't you getting into trouble all the time?"

"More than you know," Chloe sighed. "But I'm older. You're still too young to get into the troubles that I've gotten into." Chloe lost her smile, spoke seriously. "Rachel, right now the best things you can do are study hard, learn some self-defense moves, exercise every day, and learn to keep your eyes and ears open. And your mouth shut."

"Good advice at any time," Mike said. He turned to face Chloe. "Chloe, I can't thank you enough. Everything you've done for us…"

"Mike, you're the one who's helping me," she said, embarrassed at his gratitude. "I've gotten a good story out of this." She gave Mike an impish grin. "James will probably tell you about a job opportunity with a friend of mine. Be sure to give it careful consideration. I think you'll like my friend." Frankly, Chloe didn't know if Mike's power could be used as part of the Justice League (as she found herself referring to the motley collection of superpowered individuals headed by Oliver Queen), but it was worth thinking about.

Chloe didn't think, however, that she would tell Oliver about Mike's ability. She'd had long practice in keeping Clark's secret. It wasn't in her to "out" a fellow meteor freak, even to a fellow Justice Leaguer. If Oliver was any good, he'd know from Chloe's request for legal help that Mike was unusual; it would be up to Oliver to make Mike trust him.

As Rachel headed to the restroom, Chloe told Mike. "I won't tell my friend about your abilities," she said. "I think he'd be OK with it and I think you could use it without fear, but it's not my secret to tell." She nodded. "I didn't tell James anything either. Did you?"

"No," Mike said. "I didn't want to say anything in Belle Reve, and then I didn't want to say anything in front of Rachel or other people."

"Well, it's up to you," Chloe said. "I'll be at the _Daily Planet _doing obituaries and research. But your story might be the one to help me get ahead, move up in the reporting ranks." She looked away momentarily. "Strange meteor powers won't be figuring in my story, either. It'll be a straightforward 'wrongly imprisoned in an insane asylum' piece."

Mike stood silent for a moment, then nodded his head deliberately. "I owe you," he said. "A lot."

"Help me if you can, and pay it forward," Chloe told him. "Keep Rachel safe. And keep in touch if you can."

Rachel came out, and then they talked of generalities as they exited the Talon into the bright afternoon sunshine. Chloe's eyes, momentarily dazzled, missed Mike's sudden pallor. But she did see the large man who came out of nowhere and grabbed Rachel.

"You'll come with us, Mr. Reilly," the giant said. He nodded significantly at the gun in his other hand, pressed up against Rachel's body. She gave one tiny whimper as he screwed the gun in tighter. "You too," the man said, nodding at Chloe.

"What?" Chloe said stupidly.

"Come with us," the man repeated impatiently.

Smoothly, a long black limo pulled up in front of the Talon marquee. Mike saw the driver.

"Padgett," he whispered. The vicious Belle Reve orderly had figured in his nightmares. The first man gestured Mike and Chloe to it. Obeying the unspoken threat, Mike opened the door, and he and Chloe entered. The giant followed, herding Rachel in front of him. Mike and Chloe sat facing Rachel and the black-haired, tough-looking man, who continued to menace her with the handgun. The soft luxury of the car interior was a contrast to the kidnapper's naked threat.

_Stupid!_Chloe thought. _I thought the court case would end it. I didn't think Lex would go this far. I should have known better. _She herself had knowledge of the lengths to which Lex would go in pursuit of his meteor power obsession.

She nudged Mike slightly. He glanced at her.

"Get Clark," she told him.

"No talking," the large man said, withdrawing the pistol slightly to point it at Chloe.

She swallowed and nodded. The limo smoothly edged out into the road, scrupulously obeying all relevant traffic ordinances. Through the tinted windows, Chloe saw James Cooney in his car, almost at the Talon entrance, a puzzled look on his face. Then the limo passed him.

Chloe sat very still as her mind worked furiously. As the limo picked up speed, the man put up his pistol so that Rachel was not overtly threatened. But the gun remained in his hand; he need only make a motion to menace any of the three of them.

_They want Mike, and he won't work for them if they hurt Rachel. But I'm expendable,_ she thought coldly. There was no hope of disarming the man from her seat, even if she'd possessed Lois' martial arts savvy. Her only hope was that the kidnappers would keep her alive long enough for a rescue. But how?

The abduction had been extremely smooth; James would realize they were missing soon enough, but how would he know where they went? There had been only a few passersby on the street near the Talon. Maybe they would remember the presence of the limo. Her cell phone was in her shoulder bag, but there was no way she could pull it out. She couldn't even take her bag off her shoulder. Any movement seemed to arouse suspicion in the dangerous man sitting across from her.

Chloe smelled Mike's fear sweat. She hoped to God that he could contact Clark. She remembered something Mike had said, about needing a personal item to find the individual via astral projection. She prayed hard that Mike wouldn't need that for Clark, having "visited" him before. _But he couldn't get in Clark's body,_ her traitorous mind pointed out.

She snatched a quick glimpse at Mike. His eyes were closed; sitting as close to him on the limo seat, Chloe could feel his heartbeat slowing, becoming more regular. _I hope he's doing the astral projection thing, _she thought fervently. _Hope he doesn't need to be asleep for that. . _

The taut silence in the limo continued as the town gave way to the countryside. The miles passed as the car increased its speed.


	31. Kidnapped

Clark waited patiently as Mary Daugherty wiped her eyes, blew her nose. She rummaged in her bag.

"I want you to have this. Give it to Chloe Sullivan," Mary said, passing Clark a thick manila folder. "She's working at the _Daily Planet, _right?"

"Yes," Clark said absently as he opened the folder and quickly paged through the contents. It seemed to be legal documents relating to the involuntary committal of numerous Belle Reve inmates.

"These are all the people who had false papers put in their files," Mary confirmed Clark's suspicions. "It was me who put the papers in their files," she said in a smaller voice. "I'll swear to that." She sat straighter. "I want the truth to get out. I want to do the right thing by these people now."

Clark only nodded as he continued flicking through pages, keeping the speed down as part of his automatic concealment of his secret.

"I'll make sure Chloe gets it," he said, looking up and engaging her glance. "She's going to need to do some more research."

"I know. I'll help her." The sad honesty in Mary's voice rang true. Her gaze jumped convulsively to the body of the comatose girl in the hospital bed.

_She'll pay for defying them, _Clark thought. From his experience with his own father, he knew the financial strain of a chronic illness. And if vengeful people made sure that the Daugherty family lost their medical insurance….Clark felt a new respect for Mary's iron will. He repeated his statement. "Chloe will get this, Mrs. Daugherty." He nodded, trying to put all his determination into the gesture.

Mary looked into his eyes a moment, then nodded. She stood up.

"Clark, would you mind sitting with Perdita for a bit? I need to get some coffee."

"Sure," he said. Clark was willing to bet that Mary also needed some privacy to compose herself. He sat back in the chair as the older woman went out into the hallway and down toward the nursing station. Perdita gave steady, shallow breaths, her form abnormally still under the light sheet. Clark licked his lips, moisturizing them in the dry hospital air. Perdita's steady heartbeat ticked along.

Clark began drowsing just a bit as Mary stayed away. The floor seemed rather quiet today, and Perdita's room's position at the end of the hall discouraged cross-traffic. He came to quiet alertness as her breathing changed. Then Clark sat up in surprise as Perdita's eyes opened.

_What the…_he thought. Belatedly he remembered the way Perdita's aura had seemed damaged, and he switched to Aura-Vision. Once difficult to call up, constant practice now made the vision adjustment effortless.

Clark inhaled sharply as he saw a familiar purple aura. "Mike," he breathed.

Perdita's lips moved but no sound came out. Long-unused facial muscles twisted in annoyance. Mike tried speaking once again, could not.

"Something is wrong," Clark stated. He kept an eye on the aura, saw Perdita's body nodding yes. One arm lifted slightly, the wasted muscles almost visibly groaning. Clark could sense Mike's frustration at his inability to communicate.

Clark stood up. "Take me there. I can follow you," he said, grateful for the careful story Chloe had constructed to explain his abilities.

"My truck is parked in the west lot," Clark added, reluctant to take the time to drive, but concerned that he might need transport for more people than he could carry. How many people were involved? Was it just Mike? Clark had left his friends and family at the Talon along with Mike and Rachel – were they OK?

"Let's go." Clark stood up, watched the aura detach itself from Perdita and float in front of him.

"Let's go," he repeated. "I'm following you." The purplish cloud that was Mike went out the door. As they passed the nurse's station, Clark said to Sheila in passing, "Tell Mary I had to leave."

"OK, Clark," she said cheerfully.

Clark hurried through the Smallville Medical Center hallways, dodging gurneys, laundry carts, patients in wheelchairs, and bustling medical staff. The aura followed him till he got to his truck, then took the lead. Clark pulled out of the parking lot, and followed Mike down the streets of Smallville.

Once out of town, Clark pushed the accelerator down to the floor; the aura kept ahead, drawn by its connection to Mike's physical body. The old truck shuddered at the speeds Clark demanded. Clark had a momentary thought of admiration for the way Mike followed the roads; he knew from his own out-of-body experience that one wanted to return to one's body as the crow flies. Clark only hoped that he would be in time. There must be something bad happening; Mike wouldn't be here otherwise.

* * *

The limo braked to a smooth stop. Chloe looked out through the tinted windows. On her side, the road, two lanes of smooth blacktop. On Mike's side, a scenic vista. Tall trees clung to a steep slope, their roots dug into the hillside covered with ragged shrubs, grass, wildflowers, and weeds. Far below, the silvery glint of water told Chloe that they were at one of the many gorges overlooking the river. Reeves Dam was upstream; at this time of year, the river water level was low.

Anxiety churned in her gut. Chloe looked at Mike – still "absent", apparently, based on his closed eyes and stillness. The dangerous-looking man in the seat across from Mike said nothing, just kept a careful eye on her. Rachel sat tensely next to the man, not moving. The man held the gun ready for use.

The limo's left front door opened. Chloe saw the behemoth driver get out and walk around to her side. He opened her door.

"Get out," he said. Chloe stared at him, fearful. _Padgett, his name is, that's what Mike said, _she thought, and suddenly, her fear diminished. Knowing her adversary's name put her fears in perspective. She began memorizing the two kidnappers' features, reciting to herself to make the memories stick. _Brown eyes; about six feet ten inches; Roman nose…._

"Get out," Padgett repeated impatiently. Chloe just sat.

The gun-holding man decided to take part in the conversation. "If you don't get out, I'll hurt her," he said, indicating Rachel with a nod of his head. Chloe didn't miss Rachel's sudden pallor.

"OK", Chloe said, and slowly got out of the limo. She wanted to stretch her limbs. All three of the kidnappees had hardly moved since they were bundled into the limo.

"What's going on?" she asked, trying to get her captor talking. Anything to buy time. She had a bad feeling about this unscheduled stop.

Padgett didn't respond to her conversational opener. Instead, with a quickness seeming incongruous in such a large man, he grabbed her arms. Before Chloe realized it, her left arm was up behind her back in a very uncomfortable position, and Padgett was walking her to the small guardrail that separated the road from the small verge overlooking the river below.

She struggled, held back, but the giant was expert in handling recalcitrant humans, especially those whom he outweighed by over a hundred pounds. Despite her struggles, Chloe was forced over the guardrail and near the edge of the gorge. She began screaming, knowing that Padgett was going to throw her off the cliff.

* * *

Clark drove on the county roads, wishing he could coax more speed out of the battered red truck. Mike's purple aura continued to lead him; keeping Aura-Vision going so that Clark could see it gave an eerie surreality to the rest of the drive. The few passing vehicles had a strange mechanical aura generated by their electrical parts, and Clark could see the human auras in the driver's seats, confined by the metal of the car bodies. The fields and forests had odd colors, and had it not been for his quick reflexes, Clark would have spun out the truck at least twice.

He noticed Mike's purplish aura looking thinner and weaker; Clark recognized the danger signal that Mike had been out of a physical body too long. Mike must have felt it too, because he floated back into Clark's truck, and extended a tendril down the direction of the road.

"You've got to get back to your body," Clark said. "I understand. I'll follow this road."

Mike's aura nodded, and Clark saw it depart down the road, moving much faster than Clark's truck could. Clark extended his hearing, and switched back to regular vision. His face paled as he heard Chloe screaming.

Clark slammed on the brakes, gravel spraying as he stopped on the road shoulder. He got out, slammed the door closed, and went into super-speed. His red-and-blue form streaked down the road, leaving a tiny cloud of dust behind.

* * *

Mike opened his eyes with a gasp as he fell back into his body. The motion caught the attention of the dangerous man who sat next to Rachel in the seat across. The man lifted his gun slightly, then relaxed as Mike made no further moves.

The air in the limo was still and hot, now that the vehicle was stopped and the air conditioning turned off. Mike saw the fear on his daughter's face. It mirrored his own. Belatedly, Mike realized that he sat alone in his seat. Where was Chloe?

He looked out his tinted window and blanched as he saw Chloe in the iron grip of the Belle Reve orderly, Padgett. She struggled, but Mike knew from painful experience how unlikely her struggles were to bear fruit. Padgett had had no trouble controlling Mike, a larger, stronger, military-trained man. What hope did a tiny female reporter have against him?

Desperate anger arose in Mike. He thought he'd escaped Belle Reve, the imprisonment, the constant daily indignities. Now they were taking him back, and worse, they had Rachel. No more polite foster care; now she'd be in their power directly. The anger seethed and Mike leaned forward. The man in the seat across leaned forward as well, and, with a casual motion, made the gun appear in his hand again. Mike leaned back, desperate but not suicidal.

Then Mike thought back to the practice he and Chloe had done, where he had been successful (momentarily) in knocking her out and taking over her body. Despite the non-physical weariness that filled him, a weariness that warned him he must not stay away too long from his body, he closed his eyes again and sought the mental state that led to astral projection.

Rising from his body once more, Mike gathered himself as best he could. He did feel weaker than he normally did; the trip from Smallville Medical Center to this roadside lay-by had depleted him. But his resolve overrode his weariness. Forming his aura into the dagger he wished he had, Mike went above the dangerous man in the seat across. Mentally (although not physically) taking a deep breath, Mike _stabbed_downward, _clobbering_the man, dominating his aura.

A few moments of uncertainty. Then unaccustomed muscles twisted into a smile. He was successful! Mike knew he had only a few minutes, though, before the man recovered and forced him out. Mike resolved to do anything, _anything, _to keep his daughter safe.

Clumsily working the man's muscles, he opened the limo door. He noticed his daughter staring at him strangely, but she made no moves as he stepped out of the car. Mike stumbled, but forced himself up, stepping over the knee-high guardrail and moving towards the hulking figure of Padgett. The latter smiled as Chloe struggled in his grasp.

Suddenly, incongruously, he heard a shrill ringtone from the interior of Chloe's shoulder bag. Most likely, Mike thought, James had gotten tired of waiting, and was calling Chloe to ask where the heck they were. The phone rang on and on as Chloe and Padgett struggled.

Mike felt the smooth lethality of the gun, still in his hand. He'd counted on that. He checked it and took off the safety. Ready to fire. Mike advanced to Padgett, trying to get as close as possible. He wasn't sure how well he could shoot in this unfamiliar body. He heard Chloe screaming.

A wary look came onto Padgett's face as Mike advanced near him. _Oh God, I forgot he knows what I can do. _Obviously the shambling gait and strange expression had roused Padgett's suspicions.

As Mike came within arm's length of Padgett, the latter grimaced. Flexing his powerful muscles, with an air of someone solving an easy problem, Padgett threw a screaming Chloe over the cliff. The phone in her shoulder bag stopped ringing as the call went to voicemail.


	32. Over The Edge

Clark sped to the parked limo, glancing quickly inside and seeing only Mike and Rachel. Chloe's screams had cut off once he went into super-speed, the sound waves dopplered down to an almost inaudible hum. He stepped easily over the small guardrail, seeing Padgett standing at the cliff verge. No sign of Chloe. Clark's heart sank. He sped to the cliff edge and saw Chloe, falling in slow motion, frustratingly just out of his reach.

Without hesitation, Clark leapt over the cliff edge, trying to keep his feet on the almost-vertical gorge wall surface. Each time he made contact with the wall, he added a bit more speed. Chloe remained (to his speeded-up viewpoint) suspended in midair. Clumps of dirt and vegetation sprayed out from his deep footsteps in the gorge wall. Gravity dictated they fall to the ground; to Clark, the air soon filled with floating debris.

Clark lost his footing and tumbled about twenty-five feet, knocking over a sapling. With a muffled curse he grabbed the tree and threw it downward. The leaves whistled off its branches from the force of his throw.

Clark bounced once at the bottom of the gorge. Chloe had fallen about halfway down now. Clark planned on catching her, but the deceleration from such a high fall might damage her. Suddenly he smiled as an idea came to him. Inhaling deeply, he gulped a chestful of air. He pursed his lips and blew.

The jet of air caught Chloe, cradled her, slowed her fall. Clark made tiny side diversions to keep the falling debris away from Chloe. As he blew, Clark gradually shifted his time perception back to normal. Thanks to his breathing, Chloe's fall became a slow, leaf-caught-in-a-breeze flutter, not a straight plummet. Clark could hear the slowing of Chloe's madly beating heart as she realized she wasn't falling at the usual speed. By the time she dropped into his waiting arms, he felt little force. Gently he hugged her close to him, aghast at how close he'd come to losing her.

Chloe stayed in his arms, still trembling. "Thanks," she said. A million unsaid things were in the heartfelt tone.

"You're welcome," Clark said, his voice as fervent as hers. As she wiggled in his arms and he let her down, he slipped back into their regular banter. "You know, Chloe, it's not the fall that kills you – "

She chimed in. "—it's the sudden stop!" Despite her cheery tone, her voice wavered. Chloe hugged him once more. "Thanks again, Clark."

He nodded, looking up the tall cliff. "I've got to get up and help Mike and Rachel," Clark said. "You stay here till I'm done."

Chloe said, "Clark!" automatically before she realized, _Hey, I'm not bulletproof and Clark is. Maybe that's a good idea. _

"OK," she said. Clark smiled at her and jumped.

* * *

A bolt of fury went through Mike at the sight of Padgett throwing Chloe over the cliff. _She helped me, and now she's dead. _The sheer unfairness of no good deed going unpunished spurred him to a new resolve. He knew he had to act fast. He could feel the temporarily stunned spirit of the body's rightful owner stirring.

Running as fast as he could to Padgett, Mike brought the handgun up waist high. The dangerous man "woke up" and Mike could sense a tinge of bewilderment. Mike had visited several people before and was familiar with the sensation of getting "evicted" from his host. Some had taken a long time; some, perhaps with a stronger will, were able to toss him out right away. He'd stayed the longest with Chloe, but that was different, being a consensual situation.

Unfortunately, it looked to Mike as though his current host would be able to dispossess him in short order. Already Mike was losing motor control; despite his fighting to remain and control the body the gait had become a drunken stumble.

With his last vestiges of control of the kidnapper's body, Mike plowed into the giant orderly. Padgett grasped his arms, began pushing him away. Mike struggled, bringing them closer to the cliff edge. The two men writhed in an obscene tango. Padgett began pushing away his erstwhile comrade. As the rightful owner of the body pushed Mike out, Mike used the last of his strength to put the gun barrel up against Padgett's gut. He pulled the trigger.

* * *

Clark flexed his legs and jumped. The wind whistling by as he soared farther than any Olympic high-jumper could ever hope to reach, the feeling of defying gravity, the sight of the ground below shrinking below him, combined to make him feel as though he had slipped his earthly chains.

He looked down, seeing Chloe waiting. _Not waiting patiently, _he thought. _Chloe is not a patient waiter. _Clark exhaled a tiny sigh of relief. One of his recurrent nightmares was trying to save Chloe and failing just by an eyelash. The details varied, but the outcome was always the same. Whether he was plucking her from a crushing car, or catching a bullet about to strike her, or watching her get electrocuted by downed power lines, in his dream, he failed. She always got crushed or got shot or got electrocuted. Lately, these dreams had become more frequent than his previous favorite nightmares – Lex finding out his secret; ending up in a top-secret evil lab; trapped in a kryptonite-filled prison cell; making love to Lana and killing her during you know. Although lately he had to admit that the woman in the making-love nightmare was looking kind of vague. It wasn't Lana all the time anymore; now, more nights than not, his bed partner and victim was Chloe.

Lost in thought, looking down at Chloe, he flinched in midair as something hit him on the head. Unhurt, but startled, he saw a clod of dirt and gravel ricochet downward. He snapped to full alertness as he heard a shot. Another clump of dirt hit him and he looked up – just in time to see a hurtling human body come over the verge.

Clark gaped stupidly as the body tumbled past him. A thin scream trailed away in the quiet air of the river gorge. Clark stretched out his hand to grab a flailing limb; the body was out of his reach, too far away. Clark recognized it as the second man in the limousine; Clark had gotten a split-second glimpse of the limo driver and passengers as he sped past the vehicle on his way to rescue Chloe. A thin scream split the quiet air of the river gorge, dwindling away as the man fell.

Clark felt his gut clench. The cold equations of Newton's laws prevailed. Clark couldn't change the trajectory or speed of his Herculean jump. By the time Clark got to the top of the gorge, the man would have reached the bottom. And, obeying the law of gravity, the man accelerated at thirty-two meters per second squared, straight downward.

Clark reached the top of the cliff. He heard a tiny thud. The screams stopped.

* * *

Chloe moved forward, through the tangled vegetation on the narrow river bank. She hoped Clark wouldn't be long. She trusted him to come and get her, but if by some unfortunate circumstances he was delayed, Chloe wanted to have an idea of how far she'd have to hike to get to a place where she could climb the gorge or get to the road another way. Things tended to happen around Clark; Chloe had found it useful to be prepared. She couldn't count on him saving her _all_the time.

Chloe looked up as she heard a gunshot. She listened carefully; it was not repeated. Then like a summer storm where lightning followed thunder, suddenly a body tumbled out of the sky, landing about twenty feet away. Chloe inhaled sharply, and picked her way to the motionless figure.

The staring eyes, glazed and unseeing, lacked the fierce spirit that had animated them in the limousine. Blood stained the dark business suit. Chloe could tell from the twisted bones and lolling head that the man was dead; no live person could have held that position. She sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving; without Clark, that would have been her.

* * *

Clark stood at the top of the gorge for just a moment before he saw a prone figure lying on the cliff edge. He ran to the figure, seeing a large man curled up in a fetal position. Clark's nostrils dilated as he smelled the bitter-metal odor of fresh blood. Alarmed, he extended his hearing; the man's heartbeat was quick and thready, wavering and irregular.

As Clark knelt down and turned the man onto his back, he recognized him as the limo driver. The man's jacket fell open to reveal a bloodstained shirt. The man exhaled a shuddering breath, then took no more. Clark frantically x-rayed the man's body. Blood filled the abdomen; Clark could see a bullet lodged in the aorta, the giant artery from the heart that coursed through the abdomen and fed the arteries of the lower body. As Clark looked, the furious hemorrhage from the lacerated aorta slowed, trickled, stopped. Clark looked back at the man's eyes and saw _something_ fade away.

He took his hands away from the man's body; there was nothing Clark could do. He'd seen death enough to know when it was in front of him. Mike and Rachel wouldn't need his particular brand of heroics here.


	33. Shaky Aftermath

The limo sat patiently in the scenic lay-by; Clark glanced at it. Two figures, Mike and Rachel, sat inside. They seemed to be OK. Clark got up to go to them, then considered his options. He glanced once more at them; Mike seemed still, and neither of them was looking his way.

Quickly Clark looked down, checking on Chloe's whereabouts. He jumped back over the cliff. This time he was content to let gravity do the work, not being in any special hurry. As he neared the ground he flexed his knees, let them absorb the shock.

He landed gracefully a short distance from Chloe. She beckoned to him and he went to her. She silently pointed at the broken body of the man in the limo. Clark perfunctorily x-rayed it; like Chloe, he knew no human could have survived that fall. The eerie stillness of the heart told its story. Belatedly, Clark thought of his "aura sight" and switched to it. As he had suspected, the dead body held no aura; it was merely clay.

"The other guy is dead," Clark said soberly.

"Padgett?" Chloe asked.

"I don't know his name, but he was a real big guy," Clark replied. "I want you to see the body."

He took Chloe in his arms. "Here's our story, Chloe," Clark said. "You didn't fall very far; you grabbed and hung on to a tree at the edge of the cliff and I got there just in time to pull you up."

"OK," she said seriously. Since Clark had told her his secret, and she'd made her vow to keep it in confidence, Chloe had become quite good at saying various improbable excuses with a straight face.

Chloe turned her head away from the dead body, into the safety of Clark's chest. Even through his ever-present red jacket, she could feel his body's warmth, the reassuring beat of his heart. Carrying her, Clark leapt into the air.

Chloe hadn't jumped before; it was amazing. Alas that her curse was to analyze. Later, she regretted not paying attention to the new experience, but at the time, she was thinking of how her captors could have ended up dead, considering possibilities, weighing likelihoods. _It's just another thing Clark can do._

When they landed at the cliff edge, she went to the prone figure. She stared at the body, smelling the odors of death. Then, realizing as Clark had, that there was nothing to be done, Chloe ran to the limo. Clark followed her.

Chloe pulled open the door; Mike sprawled over the seat, unconscious, his head drooping. Rachel hovered over him, hugging him, rubbing his hands, saying, "Daddy? Daddy?" She looked up at Chloe and gasped.

"I think he's just unconscious, Rachel," Clark said. Chloe recognized the slight change of expression that Clark got when he used his x-ray vision. "He'll be OK. Let's get him out of the limo and get him some air."

Chloe held out her hand and Rachel came to her, while Clark entered the limo through the door on the other side. Chloe distracted Rachel with questions, keeping her from seeing how easily Clark lifted the stocky, muscular body of Rachel's father.

"What happened, Rachel?" Chloe asked. Wanting to get the official story out at once, Chloe continued, "That guy tried to throw me off the cliff but I was able to hang onto a tree till Clark came and pulled me up." A mostly true statement.

"I don't know, Chloe," the little girl replied excitedly. "That other bad man got up and _shot_ him!"

"Wait, you mean…the guy that was holding the gun on us in the car, went over and shot his partner? The driver?" Dumbfounded at first, Chloe realized the circumstances fit what she'd seen.

"Yeah, that's what happened," the girl confirmed before she raced back over to her father, now lying on the ground in the shade of the limo. Clark knelt by Mike, feeling his pulse and watching Mike breathe.

Mike's eyes flickered open. A big smile crossed his face as Rachel came to him, shouting, "Daddy, Daddy!" Ignoring the rough gravel surface, she sat down by him, hugged him. Mike held her close for a long time. Then, weakly, he sat up, accepting Clark's assistance as a matter of course.

Mike flashed an unsteady smile at Clark. "You came," he whispered. "I wasn't sure you would make it."

"You got to me in time," Clark told him.

Then Chloe came into Mike's view. His eyes widened in surprise. "I thought you were dead," he croaked. "I saw you go over the cliff."

"Well, to quote Mark Twain, the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated," Chloe said. "I was able to hang onto a tree until Clark could pull me up. He came just in time." Another mostly truthful statement. As Chloe knew, the best lies were closely based on the truth.

"Are you OK?" Mike asked.

"Fine," she replied. Chloe found it interesting that Mike didn't ask about their captors, didn't seem worried about their situation now. It was if he knew their adversaries had been rendered hors de combat. Chloe narrowed her eyes in speculation.

"What happened after I got thrown off the cliff, Mike?" she asked him bluntly.

"The guy in the car with us got out and shot his partner. I guess there's no honor among thieves, is there, Chloe?" he said.

"I guess not," she replied, giving him a piercing look.

Mike's eyes flickered to Rachel, still held tight in his arms. "Let's talk about that later, Chloe," he said, clearly not wanting to discuss it in front of his child.

"OK," she conceded. Back to basics. "Are _you_OK?" Chloe asked in her turn.

"No problem," Mike said, setting Rachel to one side, and slowly rising to a standing position. Chloe thought he still looked weak, but the former soldier could stand and walk. He obviously meant to brush off her inquiries and concern.

Clark pulled his phone out of his pocket. "We've got to call 911, notify the authorities," he said.

"Wait a minute," Chloe said. Simultaneously, Mike said, "No!"

Clark held his phone in his hand, made no move to dial. "What?" he asked.

Chloe and Mike looked at each other, sharing a commonality of feeling. Mike deferred to her.

"Clark, let's think this over," Chloe began in a didactic tone. "We call 911, they ask us why we're calling, and we tell them we got kidnapped, and that our kidnappers had a falling out and killed each other." She stopped talking, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

"Oh," Clark said, finally getting it.

"_Why were you kidnapped? Why did your captors fight? What exactly happened?_ They'll be asking all those questions," Chloe pointed out, now that Clark had seen the obvious.

Mike squeezed Rachel to him tighter. She didn't seem to want to leave his grasp. "Clark, I just got out of Belle Reve. Within three hours, Dr. Caselli, or someone, mounted a kidnapping attempt, not just on me, but on my daughter." He said bitterly, "I think Chloe was just going to be collateral damage." He gave Chloe a weary smile. "It would have been successful if you hadn't come."

Clark gave him a long look in return. "And if you hadn't…" he paused, seeing Mike indicated Rachel and shook his head, "…been able to contact me." Like Chloe, Clark had an idea as to why the kidnapper had suddenly gone homicidal on his partner in crime. Like Chloe, Clark chose to honor Mike's unspoken request to not discuss it in front of Rachel.

Mike continued. "I think this is a definite sign from God, Clark." A sardonic grin crossed his face. "I don't usually get divine intervention, but I'm taking this as a very clear message to get out of Smallville and Lowell County. Right away." He wobbled on his feet, but maintained his grip on his daughter. "If we report this, we'll be here a lot longer."

"Yes, Clark, you know how it goes," Chloe interjected. "Witness statements, police reports, crime scene investigation, court appearances…."

"All right!" Clark said. "But we still have to report it. It's the law."

"We_will_ report it, Clark," Mike said earnestly. "You just take us in your truck to the nearest pay phone. I'll call it in. Anonymously." He stood straighter. "That way, we're obeying the law." He tousled Rachel's hair affectionately. "And it gives me and Rachel a chance to get out." A pleading tone entered his voice. "Clark, you know how important that is."

Chloe held her breath as Clark considered it. Strange how everything always came back to Clark and his decisions. But in the end, the logic of Mike's plea made sense. Would Clark really want to the police to know how he _just happened _to come out to this area, the exact spot where Chloe, Mike, and Rachel were waiting? All four of them would have to lie and cover up, and the police officers would quickly pick up on any omissions or hesitations. Yes, Mike's plan was the best way.

Clark snapped his phone closed. "OK," he said, agreeing. He frowned. "That means we can't tell James either."

They all jumped as Chloe's phone trilled. She pulled it out. "Speak of the devil. It's James calling."

"Probably wondering where the hell we are," Mike mumbled.

"Don't answer it!" Clark exclaimed at the same time, stopping Chloe just in time.

Chloe gave a questioning look.

"James is a lawyer, Clark said.

"Yes?" Chloe asked sweetly.

"As such, he's an officer of the court. If he has knowledge that a crime has been committed, he's legally and ethically bound to report it," Clark replied.

"Oh," Chloe said. She'd known that, but it had fled her mind during the stress of the previous events. She looked at Mike; apparently he hadn't known. The phone stopped ringing; another call to voicemail. Chloe flogged her mind into moving again.

"Mike, you can't tell your lawyer about this episode," Chloe said. "Think up some story, or tell him that you're not going to tell him where you were. But don't tell him about this." She looked at Rachel, still clinging to Mike's hand. "This goes for you too, Rachel."

Mike and Rachel nodded.

Clark said, almost nervously, "Well, let's get moving before someone comes driving along." He pointed. "My truck is just around that bend of the road. Chloe, can you help Mike and Rachel walk there?"

Chloe recognized the significant tone in his voice. Imperceptible to anyone else, her long friendship enabled her to understand that Clark felt it important she do what he asked.

"Sure, Clark." She held Rachel's hand, offered her support to Mike. He shook his head and the three set out down the road.

Clark waited a few moments, till they were some distance away. He thought about what he was about to do; it was a crime too. But, in snapping his phone closed, he'd made his decision to help Mike. And he was going to follow through with the consequences of that decision. Even if Mike didn't know Clark was doing so.

Clark went to the limo. Using all his enhanced senses, he checked the limo interior for evidence of his friends. Then he let loose a carefully measured blast of heat vision, going through the passenger compartment in a quick but thorough sweep, incinerating skin flakes, a few pieces of hair, fingerprints. The limo exterior needed less attention; however, Clark made sure that nothing existed that could or would tie Chloe, Mike or Rachel to this limo at this time.

Clark checked the ground surface. He could do nothing about the tracks that led from the limo to the cliff edge where Padgett's body lay. And he could do nothing about the break in the vegetation where the second man had gone over into the gorge. Fortunately, it looked as though Chloe's footprints had been trampled over by the second man's passing. And she'd been thrown over the cliff edge, so the vegetation break was solely due to the passage of the kidnapper.

He counted himself lucky - in fact all of them were lucky - that no other cars had come by during the entire time the limo had been stopped there. Clark knew that if any other people had come by, their scheme would be unworkable. Fortunately, this was a lightly traveled road.

Clark moved to the road edge and gave one large breath. The loose gravel on the ground scattered into random patterns, disrupting any faint traces of the four of them. As Clark turned his back and headed towards his truck, he left behind him a stopped limo, a scene of two men who had gone bad and killed each other, with no one else there.


	34. An Unexpected Request

The four drove back to Smallville, Clark grateful for the extended cab of his pickup that allowed all of them to ride comfortably. True to his word, at the first pay phone they encountered, Mike reported seeing a body by a limo on the road to Reeves Dam. He quickly hung up when the 911 operator tried to get additional information.

Chloe's phone rang again after that, and this time she answered it.

"James!" she said.

"_Chloe, where have you been?"_ Clark heard the young lawyer on the other end of the line. _"Are Mike and Rachel with you? I waited for a long time, then I tried calling, and I couldn't get hold of you—" _

"It's my fault," Chloe interrupted. Staying close to the truth, but being deliberately misleading again, she said, "I took him to meet a friend of mine. I thought it would only be a few minutes, but it turned a lot longer. And then I forgot I had my phone turned off!" Gosh, she sounded ditzy, she thought. "I'm sorry, James."

_"Well, if everyone's OK, that's good, but I just got some urgent news from the office. I have to get back to Metropolis right away, and unless I can meet you in the next few minutes here in downtown Smallville, I won't be able to take Mike and Rachel."_

Chloe looked at Clark, knowing he'd heard the conversation. He shook his head.

"No, that's OK, James," Chloe said. "We can get them to Metropolis. Can they meet you in your office tomorrow morning about eleven?"

_"That's great, Chloe," _James replied. _"I'll leave an envelope with papers and money for Mike at the Kent Farm. I'll drop it off on the way. Take care." _ He ended the call.

"Gosh, it must be urgent," Chloe said. "He couldn't wait to get going." She told Mike and Rachel about the conversation.

"Probably Caselli arranged _that_ too," Mike grumbled.

Chloe cast him a startled look.

"Kidnap me and Rachel, get my lawyer distracted…"

"You're being paranoid," Chloe said weakly.

"Am I?" Mike challenged her.

Chloe said nothing. She was beginning to think she'd underestimated Dr. Caselli. She wondered what the urgent news was that James Cooney had gotten from his office. What could make him basically abandon a client? She hoped it didn't involve a fatality in his family or office mates.

"Let's get to your house, Clark," Chloe urged. "I'm sure James will have left contact info in that envelope he was talking about. Once we know where to go, we can take Mike and Rachel to Metropolis."

Clark nodded and kept the truck moving down the sparsely traveled county roads. No one said anything all the rest of the way to the Kent Farm.

The battered red truck pulled into the long farm driveway, dust fuming up in its wake. Clark parked the truck in its usual position not far from the house, and the passengers piled out. He frowned at the sight of an unfamiliar sedan nearby. It wasn't his mother's car.

"Good to see the farm," Chloe murmured. Clark shot her a look. She looked back, gratitude on her face. "For a minute there, I thought I would never see this place again." Her quick smile broke out. "Did I thank you, Clark?"

"Yes," he muttered, uncomfortable.

"Well, thanks again," she said, dropping back behind Mike and Rachel to take his hand and squeeze it. "My hero."

"Um…it's getting close to the time to do the afternoon milking…" Clark mumbled.

Chloe just grinned at him, well aware of his aversion to being recognized and thanked for using his superhuman abilities. _We need a support group, _she thought. _Shy Aliens and the People They Have Saved. Or maybe that could be our rock band name. _It was funny. Clark could do all these wonderful things, he'd saved her life more times than she could count, and it seemed like some days he just moped, moped about not being human.

Then the grin left her face as Chloe thought about what she'd been through since discovering that she herself was a meteor freak. The queasiness, the notion that one had…powers…beyond those of mortal men, even if one didn't yet know what those powers were. And the fear. The fear that she would use her power (whatever it was) to hurt someone.

Chloe remembered a line from the "Star Wars" movie. Alec Guinness as Obi-wan Kenobi, saying to Luke Skywalker: _"Vader was seduced by the dark side of the Force."_ She didn't want that to happen to her. So, lately, she'd had a small taste of what Clark Kent went through every day. Every day, he had to make a choice. Good or Evil? Or, less dramatic but more insidious, Good or Apathy?

Chloe slowed her steps as she considered the numerous times that Clark had used his abilities to help someone, when it would have been easier and more convenient just to do nothing. This hero business was more of a hassle than it looked.

She tossed her head, then noticed that the others had all entered the house. Clark patiently (although exaggeratedly) was holding the front door open for her. Chloe diverted her mind from superhero thoughts and moved quickly up the porch steps. Clark followed her inside.

They entered the living room, and Chloe stopped in surprise at the sight of Mary Daugherty. Clark, following behind, almost ran into her. Mike and Rachel were already in the room, standing stiffly.

"Oh, there you are, Clark!" Martha Kent said cheerily. "Mrs. Daugherty from the courthouse came to see you."

Clark's gaze moved to Mary; she looked back at him. Was it desperation on her face?

"She's been waiting a half-hour," Mrs. Kent continued, smoothing over the awkward tension in the room. "We've had some cookies." Martha looked around at the four newcomers, each semi-frozen in surprise. "Um, would you like some cookies, Rachel, Mike?"

Mike broke out of the spell, said, "Certainly, Mrs. Kent."

"Well, let's go to the kitchen for the cookies, then? And we'll have some milk with them, Rachel? Or maybe you'd like lemonade, Mr. Reilly?" Martha burbled as she gently chivvied them down the hallway.

Chloe stayed and Mary Daugherty made no efforts to ask her to leave, looking once at Chloe and then dismissing Chloe from her attention.

"Clark," Mary said.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Did anything happen with Perdita while I was getting coffee? In the hospital?"

"Why?" Clark asked warily.

"She moved. She _moved_, Clark." Mary's voice had come out of the flat deadness he'd heard earlier today when they sat together in Perdita's room, looking at the comatose girl. "It's the first time she's moved in twelve months." Now there was a terrible hope in the words. "So I was wondering if you saw anything, or heard anything different…" she trailed off.

Clark paused just a moment, not wanting to talk about Mike's astral visitation. "Um, no, Mrs. Daugherty."

Her eyes narrowed. Clark had an uneasy feeling she saw through his prevarication. Chloe had often told him he couldn't lie worth a darn.

Clark couldn't resist the naked plea in her eyes. "Well…"

"What?" Mary pounced.

Clark said slowly, "Well, I am a big believer in the power of prayer, and I did say a prayer for Perdita there while I was holding her hand." All true, but not quite the whole story.

"Would you come back and do it again?" Mary asked eagerly.

Clark felt like a heel. He didn't dare look at Chloe. Probably she'd interpret this as evidence of some more Kryptonian powers. But he didn't have the power to heal. If he had, he thought bitterly, Jonathan Kent would be alive today.

"Please?" Mary asked. She lowered her eyes, said quietly, "Please, Clark. That's the only thing…no one else has ever…it's been so long."

How could he say no? "Of course, Mrs. Daugherty."

Chloe interjected. "Clark, don't you have to do your chores first?" Clark and Mary both jumped.

"Um, yes, Chloe," he replied. Chloe was giving him a Significant Look again. If he knew what was good for him, Clark would follow her lead. "Um, Mrs. Daugherty, maybe I can come by tonight."

She sighed. Obviously Mary would prefer that he drop everything and rush to the hospital right away, but she was too polite to say so. "Oh, thanks so much, Clark. But I have Altar Society tonight and I won't be there after 7:00 pm. And my husband has a meeting too."

Clark held down the smile that wanted to break out. The last thing he wanted was witnesses. "Please be sure to let the nursing staff know I'll be coming," he said, straightening to his full height. Unconsciously, his voice dropped to a slightly lower register. "I'll be there tonight. Unless you want me to wait and come later on with you?"

Mary relaxed at the promise. Somehow, when Clark Kent spoke like that, you knew he would do what he said. "No, Clark," she said. "I'd prefer that you come as soon as possible. Thank you," she said. Mary gathered her purse and made her good-byes to Martha. Fortunately, Mike and Rachel had retreated upstairs.

Clark turned back to see Chloe staring at him, an amused expression on her face.

"What?" he asked, defensively.

"You know, Clark," she said, "when you think someone needs you, it's like you're a whole different person."

"What?" he asked again, this time confused.

"It's like suddenly you're not a geeky farm boy," Chloe said. "You're somebody who knows what he wants to do and isn't going to let anyone stop him from doing it."

"Oh." Clark never realized he was like that. It was disconcerting – who was he, really? Did he have a whole other identity?


	35. Asking Mike

"We've got to go and talk to Mike," he said to Chloe. Clark walked into the kitchen and met his mother.

"Mom, we've got to talk with Mike in the loft. Will you keep Rachel busy for a little bit?" Clark asked.

Martha gave him a curious look, but said, "Sure, Clark."

"I'll tell you later," he promised. "Chloe, let's go upstairs."

The two headed up the farmhouse stairs, to Clark's room, where Mike had laid an open envelope on Clark's bed. Chloe caught a glimpse of a roll of currency before Mike tucked it into his pocket. He folded up the paper he was reading and put that into another pocket.

"Well, Clark, Chloe, it's been a fun time," Mike said sarcastically. Then, in a more sincere tone, he said, "I do want to thank you for everything." He looked at Rachel; in his momentarily unguarded expression, Chloe caught a glimpse of the deep love he had for his daughter. "You had said something about heading right to Metropolis?" Mike continued, bringing his jacket edges closer together.

"Um, we have to talk to you about that," Clark said.

Mike shot him a pointed look.

"What's to talk about? You know that Rachel and I have to get out of here ASAP," the man said pointedly. "I'm sure you don't want to put Chloe in danger again."

_Ooh, low blow! _Chloe thought, as Clark grimaced.

"Mike, we have to talk to you about something," Clark said again, moving his eyes to Rachel and then back to Mike, to indicate it was something that she shouldn't hear about. "Would you come to the barn loft with us, please?"

Chloe found herself wondering at Clark's voice. Suddenly, there was power and command in it. She would have marched off with him right away. Mike fought a little. "Rachel…" he protested weakly.

"My mom can watch her in the kitchen. I think she's going to make some cookies." Clark played the cookie card without compunction.

Rachel's eyes lit up. "Can I help her?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes. She was hoping you would," Clark replied. Rachel looked at her dad. He gave a reluctant nod, and she rabbited out of the room and down the stairs.

"What's going on, Clark?" Mike asked.

"Please come to the loft, Mike," Clark said. "I don't think we want to talk about it here."

"OK." The three of them trudged back to the loft, site of their first meeting. Now, though, three bodies instead of two sat on the battered old furniture.

"Mike, I have to ask you about how you found me today," Clark said.

Mike looked nervous. "Well, I'd, ah, _found_you before, when we were doing the work with Chloe. So I could find you again."

Chloe, sitting silently beside Clark, was pleased to have her suspicions confirmed.

Mike continued. "But I couldn't get in you and tell you directly, so I had to go to the person who was closest to you."

Clark pounced. "What do you remember about her?"

"Not much," Mike replied, puzzled. "I was so worried about contacting you that I didn't think about her at all. Except I was really frustrated when she, when I couldn't talk to you." He said pensively, "Now I remember a little bit. It was like she was, I don't know, _off, _or_wrong, _somehow."

"Her name is Perdita and she's in a coma," Clark said sternly. "And we can't go to Metropolis till you come with us tonight and try to help her."

"Ah…weren't you the one who said we should get out right away?" Mike asked. "I don't really want to stay here a minute longer than I have to. Rachel and I have to get away. I know where to go now, and I've got some money…I really want to get out of Smallville."

Chloe felt sympathy for him. His Lowell County experience had been a year of unmitigated horror. Now that Mike saw the chance of a new life, no wonder he wanted nothing more than to escape.

Clark sat in the chair, facing Mike who was sitting on the old sofa. He stared at Mike for a moment, saying nothing. Then Clark nodded and said, "Do you know who came in just now?"

"No, should I?" Mike replied.

"Her name is Mary Daugherty. It's her daughter Perdita who's in the coma," Clark said.

"Perdita?" Mike said incredulously. "They named their daughter after a dog?"

"What?" Clark said, momentarily fazed.

"It's from that Disney movie '101 Dalmatians', Clark," Chloe offered. "The lead dogs are Pongo and Perdita."

Clark smiled. "Actually, I think it's because Mary's got some sort of Latin fixation. Perdita has two sisters called Concordia and Terentia. And her brother is Marcus."

"I can't believe anybody would name their kids that," Chloe said, grinning.

"Could be worse," Clark said. "But, Mike…"

"Yes?"

"Mary's daughter is in a coma. Mary did something for you." Clark stared hard at Mike. "You owe her." The last words came out quietly but firmly.

"I owe her?" Mike asked, confused.

"You probably don't know that Mary Daugherty is the clerk at the county courthouse. And only Chloe and I know that Luthorcorp and Dr. Caselli are putting pressure on her to put false papers in the files of Belle Reve inmates." Clark continued looking Mike in the eye. "And she was going to put some papers in your file, papers that would have kept you in Belle Reve."

Mike paled.

Clark went on. "But she's an honest person, so she took those papers out. Or she never put them in your file in the first place. And now, Luthorcorp and Dr. Caselli are going to make her pay."

Chloe gasped. This was the first time she'd heard the whole story. "Clark, you don't mean…" she asked.

"I think they'll start by making sure her husband – who works for Luthorcorp – will lose his job, and the family medical insurance. And they'll probably work out some way for Mary to lose her job, too." Clark sounded grim. "I don't know what else they'll do. Probably make it so that Perdita has to go into some medical warehouse where she won't get good care. Then she'll get pneumonia and die, or they'll decide to pull the plug on her." He sat straighter. "You owe Mary."

Mike seemed undecided. Several minutes passed. Chloe squirmed in her chair, unable to stand the suspense. "Well…" Mike said. Then he leaned back with a rueful expression and Chloe knew they had lost.

"I'm sorry for the kid," Mike said, "but my first duty has to be to my own kid. We've got to get safe." To his credit, the man looked a little queasy, but his voice was firm.

Disappointment crossed Clark's face. He nodded his head slowly. The tense silence in the loft continued. Mike looked away from Chloe and Clark, a tinge of shame in his eyes.

Clark broke the stillness, his voice low. "You killed him, didn't you?" he asked Mike. "That man from the limo?"

Mike's initial surprise, morphing into guilt, and then a stone face, was his confession. Chloe was almost as surprised as Mike. She'd been so relieved at her rescue and so busy worrying about their safety that she hadn't had time to think about it. Now, in retrospect, she asked herself how she could have been so stupid.

"You got into his head and took over his body. You used him to shoot the driver, didn't you?" Clark asked, leaning forward as he stared at Mike.

Mike maintained his neutral expression for a few moments before he cracked. "Yes." He said it in a low, shamed voice, as he looked away from Clark. He avoided Chloe's glance too.

"How did it feel?" Clark asked, almost curiously, Chloe thought.

Mike sighed. "At first, I was happy. I thought he'd just killed Chloe. I knew he was going to take Rachel and me prisoner. I was glad I shot him." The low voice could not be heard outside their close circle. "Then…I've been thinking about it. I wish I hadn't done it that way," Mike confessed. "I've never used my ability…that way…before." He looked up defiantly. "But I'm not sad I killed him. It was him or me, and I'm glad it was him. That was the only way to do it." He looked at Chloe. "Chloe, I'm glad you're alive too, although it wasn't me that had anything to do with your surviving."

"Thanks," she murmured absently.

"When I first got this ability," Mike said passionately, "I thought it was fun. And then it turned into a nightmare. And now I hate it. I don't want to use it." He spoke a little louder. "I never had to kill anybody when I was in the military," Mike said. "I always wondered if I had the guts to do it." He laughed bitterly. "I guess I do."

He stared back at Clark. "Can you say that you've never hurt anybody? Nah, I guess your power on electrical fields is pretty harmless. You've probably never hurt anybody with your power, I bet." He got up and started pacing, not looking at either Clark or Chloe.

Clark remained silent.

Mike looked away again. "Yeah, I wish I hadn't had to do it. But I did. And now I'm alive and he's dead and that's the way I wanted it to be." He sat down again. "And now I just want to get out of here."

"I understand," Clark said gently. Actually, he did, more than Mike could know. He'd used his abilities in various ways, not always ethical, in his younger days. He'd never killed anyone directly (although he'd come shudderingly close to it a few times) but circumstances had arranged a lot of dead bodies around him, usually based on incidents where he'd had to use his powers. Clark knew well the feeling of regret.

"But do you want that to be your last memory of using your ability?" Clark probed. "Using it to kill someone?" He stood up, paced. "Look, I know it wasn't what you wanted. But this isn't you, Mike. I've got a sense of you from our…adventures together. You did what you had to, but you're a good guy at heart." Mike's eyes wavered.

Clark continued. "Get the bad taste out of your mouth." A persuasive tone entered his voice. "Come with us tonight and use your ability for good. Try to help this girl."

Chloe held her breath. What Clark said was true. Mike was a good guy, now frantic with worry over the safety of himself and his daughter. The silence was deafening. Mike's choice balanced on the edge of a knife.

Clark paced some more, stopped in front of Mike. "Nobody else can do what you can." He caught Mike's gaze, and said quietly, "Please."


	36. Three With A Plan

The three opened the doors and exited Clark's truck in the parking lot of the Smallville Medical Center. Chloe looked up at the stars; the moon was full, and only the brighter stars could be seen. Not that she was any expert anyway. She could pick out Orion from his belt, and the Little Dipper, and the North Star. That was about the extent of her knowledge. _Chloe, you have an alien best friend, and you don't even know Earth constellations! _she chided herself.

She looked again at the Little Dipper and the North Star; idly she wondered if one of those had been Krypton's sun. Chloe had never really asked Clark if he knew where he came from. Although, on second thought, from his comment about "not being from this galaxy", she presumed it likely that she wouldn't be able to see Krypton's star with the naked eye. It was probably in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud somewhere.

Frankly, even with her best friend being (probably) the only space alien on earth (after finding out about Clark, she still had her doubts about whether or not the movie _"_Men In Black_"_ was actually a comical documentary), Chloe was embarrassed to admit how little she knew of astronomy. Maybe, if Clark knew where Krypton's sun was, they could look it up from the Hubble Space Telescope data. Wasn't all that NASA stuff on-line now?

She found herself lagging behind Mike and Clark as they headed in the side entrance. Once again, Chloe found herself marveling at Clark's ability to bring out the best in people. She herself was much more confrontational, although not so much as Lois. Somehow, Clark had managed to get Mike to agree to this visit, despite the latter's twitchiness and general anxiety to get moving.

Mike, Rachel, and Chloe had hidden at the farm all afternoon, not sure what would happen when Dr. Caselli and/or Lex Luthor got word of the death of their hired kidnappers. Chloe had cast Clark an understanding eye when he made a comment about doing the chores; she knew that with witnesses, he'd have to do them the regular human way. Sure enough, it had taken him the better part of the afternoon. Mike had offered to help, but Chloe thought it best that he stay out of sight. So she and the other guests had stayed indoors.

All three of them took a nap, being exhausted by the mental and physical strain of the day. They woke to Martha's delicious cooking. As ever, she maintained a polite air of detachment regarding their intentions, despite what Chloe knew was intense curiosity. Living with an alien son had taught Mrs. Kent that sometimes she needed to avoid probing questions, lest she be probed questioningly in return.

After dinner, to keep their minds off the mission ahead, and to distract Rachel, they'd played a cutthroat game of Monopoly. It ended with Rachel the winner, playing the role of the grasping slumlord and realty baron, laughing evilly when anyone (and they all did eventually) landed on her property – the dreaded Boardwalk with a hotel. Clark went broke first, then Mike. Chloe fought a valiant rearguard action, but ended up with all her remaining properties mortgaged to the hilt. When she landed on Park Place, she threw up her hands and conceded the title of 'Monopoly Queen' to Rachel.

Mike had put Rachel to bed (dressed in one of Mrs. Kent's old T-shirts) and Martha had discreetly and understandingly withdrawn to her own room at Clark's quiet request. A quick and uneventful trip to the SMC followed.

Chloe led the way to Perdita's third-floor room, Mike following, and Clark bringing up the rear. The usual Medical Center bustle had dwindled to almost nothing at this hour of the day; doctors were done with office hours, patients coming for lab tests were finished, and surgery admits hadn't started yet. The three passed a tired-looking housekeeping worker vacuuming the hallways and waved at him in passing.

They came to the nursing station on Perdita's floor. "Sheila!" Clark exclaimed. "I thought you were working days?"

"They asked me to pick up an extra shift. The afternoon nurse called in, we're short-staffed, and I need the money," the nurse replied. She lacked her usual vivacity, and bluish circles under her eyes testified to her tiredness. "It's only two more hours, then I go home for two days off." Sheila looked at Chloe and Mike. "Mary said you were going to come by."

"Um, yeah, she asked me to visit Perdita, and I wanted to bring some friends," Clark mumbled.

"She said you're going to pray over her?" the nurse probed. Sheila moved closer to Clark; as she did, he felt the beginnings of the unmistakable weakness and nausea that meant kryptonite nearby.

Clark grimaced, not only from the kryptonite, but from Sheila's question. "I don't know what she thinks," he said, embarrassed. "I mean, I believe in the power of prayer – " the nurse nodded here "- but I don't flatter myself that I've got some direct hotline to God or something." Hesitatingly, he added, "I don't know if you think it's weird or not?" Clark felt himself trembling as the malign influence of the meteor rock gained strength. Chloe looked at him sharply; he looked back in mild surprise. Clark had forgotten how much Chloe was attuned to him, how much she knew his habits and idiosyncrasies.

The nurse said, "Well, I think it's great that you're coming, all the same. People do prayer services all the time. It certainly isn't the weirdest thing we've seen here. I mean, you're trying to help."

At the same time, Chloe said, "Wow, Sheila, those are some interesting earrings you have there. Can you come over here where the light is better and show them to me?"

"Oh, yeah, Chloe," the nurse replied, moving towards Chloe, gaining a greater distance from Clark and Mike. "You know that Smallville Jewelers has that meteor rock jewelry? My husband picked these up for me for my birthday. Aren't they bright?" She held her hair back on one side to show off the pendants. The stones glowed a virulent green; Chloe thought that Sheila would be surprised to see how very bright they were right now. Clark sighed with relief quietly. He was very glad that Chloe had moved the nurse away from him.

"Very nice," Chloe agreed. She had Sheila on the opposite side of the large nursing station from Clark now. "They look good on you, Sheila, but I don't think they'd go well with my complexion." Chloe winked at Clark. He stared back impassively. The thought of her wearing kryptonite jewelry was not funny.

Changing the subject, Chloe said, "Um, I'm sure you've got a lot to do?" She looked at the piles of patient charts stacked up on the nursing station counter.

"Do I ever," Sheila said plaintively. "Hey, guys, I know you want to get to your prayer service. If you come with me, I'll do this hour's treatments and then you'll have some privacy." She looked up with an appealing expression. "Since my aide isn't here either, maybe I can get you guys to help?"

"Um, I need to use the restroom, but I'll come down," Clark said. He couldn't chance being caught in the small hospital room next to Sheila while she wore the toxic earrings.

"No problem," Chloe assured the nurse. She, Mike, and Sheila headed off down to Perdita's room at the end of the hallway. Clark made good on his statement by ducking into the small lavatory used for patient visitors. (He'd found, when his father was ill, that the hospital wanted the bathrooms in the patient's quarters to be used strictly by the patient. It was an infection control procedure.)

Deliberately taking his time, Clark washed his hands and rinsed his mouth; the nausea from kryptonite exposure had left a sour taste. He stepped out and proceeded down the hall, stopping at a safe distance from Perdita's room. Changing to X-ray vision, he found Sheila, Mike, and Chloe engaged in finishing up Perdita's treatments.

Sheila came out, and waved at him as she passed by. "You're all set to go, Clark," she said. Fortunately, she didn't stop to chat with him, and only a minor wave of easily-suppressed pain washed over Clark.

Clark entered Perdita's room to hear Mike saying, "Did you feel that wave of warmth?" to Chloe.

"No, I didn't," she replied, puzzled. "What?"

"When that nurse passed by," Mike said. "Oh well." He dismissed it, pulled out a chair, sat by Perdita's bed. As ever, the hospital smell, the body lying motionless in the bed, the regular beeping of a lonely monitor unit flattened Clark's spirits and made him count his own blessings. Clark and Chloe pulled up two other chairs and sat nearby Mike.

"Back me up," Mike said nervously, looking at the partially open door. They hadn't wanted to close it, reasoning that that looked more suspicious than passersby seeing three people sitting quietly around a bed. Hopefully, at this hour of the evening, and with the low staffing levels that Sheila had mentioned, there would be no witnesses.

Mike sat quietly in the chair; his eyes closed and he relaxed. Clark automatically switched to Aura-Sight, to see the expected movement of the purplish aura out of Mike's body and over to Perdita's. It meshed into the unconscious girl's body, and stayed there. Chloe looked over at Clark; her movement attracted his attention. She gave him a questioning look and he nodded.

Purplish movement out of the corner of his eye made Clark look back at Mike. The latter had returned to his body. Mike sat up and swallowed.

"I've never seen anything like this," the man said. "Her aura is there, but it's like…it's like…I really don't know how to describe it."

"When I saw it before, it was like it wasn't connected, or something," Clark interjected.

"That's a good way of putting it," Mike said. "It's like she's there, but she's been turned ninety degrees out of focus." He took a deep breath. "I think I can help her, but I'm going to need both of you."

Clark and Chloe looked at him curiously. "Go on," Chloe said.

"I think…" Mike said slowly. "I think what I have to do is sever her threads." Clark and Chloe nodded, familiar with what he was referring to from their experiences. "And then I have to, um, re-tie them, re-tie them the right way. I hope it works. I can't think of anything else to try."

"And us?" Chloe prompted.

"I need you do help me do the severing," Mike said. "And here's the part I'm worried about." He swallowed. "When we sever her threads, we've got to keep tight hold of her. If we let her loose, she'll die." He looked at Clark. "That's what I'm counting on you for. You have to hold her. I can't hold her and do the thread work at the same time. And I need Chloe to help me untie and re-tie the threads."

Clark swallowed too. He didn't know he'd have to play such a part. He'd never done anything like that before. He didn't know what he was doing; heck, he'd only had one afternoon of practice in this astral thing! Uncertainty tainted his resolve; a momentary fear at the thought of what might happen if he made an error coursed through him. Then he gathered his courage. Mike had come here at Clark's urging despite a better reason to be gone. Now it was time for Clark to stand up and do the job.

"I understand," Clark said, steely resolve in his voice.

"OK," Mike said. "Here's the plan. We want to touch each other, and touch Perdita if we can. I think that'll make it easier." The three pulled their chairs close together, had a momentary ineffective arm-grasping shuffle, then settled for twining ankles around each other. Mike was the only one who could reach Perdita; he leaned over slightly and put his hand on her thigh. Chloe gasped at Mike's touch.

"Now I felt that wave of warmth," she said. "Clark, did you feel it?"

"No," he said, puzzled. What did the warmth mean?

"Here's the plan," Mike said, unconsciously taking command. "Five minutes of calming breathing. Then I go, and get you, Chloe." She nodded. "Then the two of us together will get you, Clark," Mike continued.

"OK," Clark said.

"Then Chloe and I will start the untying, and pass her off to you to hold, till we get everything untied, and turned back the way it should be, and re-tied. I don't know how long it will take."

Clark suggested, "When I was, um, out, and getting back in, it only took a few seconds."

"But you weren't in a coma," Mike pointed out. "You weren't damaged. I don't know what kind of difference that will make." He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh well. We're going through with it, no matter what. Right?" He gave Clark and Chloe a challenging look. He was the leader here now.

"We're in," Chloe replied for both of them. Clark nodded.

"OK, ready?" Mike asked. They nodded. All three closed their eyes and began deep breaths, inhaling for a count of four, holding for four, and exhaling for eight. After a few moments, Clark felt his heart slow, his racing thoughts becoming calm as his mind followed his body. His hearing picked up and he realized his partners were doing the same.

Clark switched to aura-sight, but with his eyes closed, it didn't matter. When Chloe came to get him, he recognized her aura touch without the need of sight. He looked forward to the exhilarating sense of freedom that would come as he left his body. He turned his focus inward and tried to extend a welcoming tendril to Chloe.

"Ow!" Chloe had touched him and it burned. He pulled back, looked at her more closely. Her aura, usually all blue, this time had a tiny greenish tinge – a kryptonite tinge – to the edges. Clark worried that being around Sheila's kryptonite earrings a short time ago had changed Chloe. If so, what had it done to Mike? But there was no time to protest.

Chloe "reached" for him again; this time, Clark ignored the temporary stab of pain when she "touched" him. She and Mike quickly pulled him out of his body, and once again Clark was in the strange state of bodiless astral projection. Mike and Chloe waited for him; Clark sensed them in the strange way that was not sight or hearing or touch but seemed to be all three.

_"Ready?"_Mike asked. Chloe and Clark indicated agreement. Chloe kept one "hand" attached to Clark, and with her other "hand", went with Mike near Perdita's body. From his odd viewpoint, Clark saw the two auras blur the physical boundaries of the comatose girl. A witness from the hall would have seen nothing.

_"See what I'm doing here?" _Mike asked Chloe. Clark hoped she could; he certainly couldn't. _"I'm cutting Perdita loose." _

_"No. I can see what's happened, but I can't see how you're doing it," _Chloe replied. _"That must be your gift."_

_"You're helping," _Mike said, abstractedly. Apparently the job demanded more concentration. He stopped talking.

_"Clark!"_Chloe called. _"Be ready to take her." _

Clark braced himself, and soon, Chloe was passing him tendrils, bits, pieces of Perdita. The girl's aura, dull and dark, seemed a physical burden to Clark as Mike detached more and more of it from her body with Chloe's help, who then passed the "un-tied" aura on to Clark.

If Clark had been in his body he would be sweating. More and more of Perdita's aura came to him. Her soul-stuff seemed almost _slippery;_Clark grabbed onto it and held on with all his might. She seemed to want to slip through his fingers; instinctively, Clark knew that would be fatal. Somehow he recognized that if he lost his grip, Perdita would go…_somewhere._Somewhere else, a place where she could not be found again.

Chloe's touch seemed to burn more deeply with each transfer of aura-stuff. Clark began almost to flinch at receiving another piece of the burden; he couldn't help but contact Chloe's aura during the transfers, and the virulent green edge of her astral form seemed to sap his strength when it touched him. Each time she passed him a bit more of the load, a burning fire went through Clark where their auras touched.

Although his spirit floated free, Clark could not help but think of himself as he existed physically. He felt as though his arms were full. Mentally drawing an analogy with his physical body, he flung Perdita over his back in a fireman's carry, in an attempt to more easily carry her. Still more weight was loaded on to him. Whatever burdens Perdita's soul had earned in less than twenty years of life – memories, experiences, emotions – had become a harsh reality, a backbreaking load, in this non-physical world.

Clark wanted to look over to Mike, see how he was coming with the process; he could not. The growing weight forced him to his "knees." All his concentration bent on maintaining his grip on the girl. Chloe had not noticed his discomfort; she seemed preoccupied in her role as intermediary. Clark had given up flinching at Chloe's touch; the pain was continuous now. He found himself growing tired, an unfamiliar sensation. He gritted his teeth and held on, holding the burden.

Clark turned his thoughts inward, drew on a kernel of will down inside his weakening form. With relief he noticed that the load had stopped increasing; presumably, Perdita had been all "detached". Now it was up to him to hold on to her while Mike "re-tied" her in place.

He heard Mike talking to Chloe as if a long distance away. _"See what we have to do here? You give me her aura bit by bit, and I have to turn each little piece…this way…and then re-attach. I'm not sure if she can re-attach on her own without her help."_

Distantly, Chloe's reply came to him. _"I still don't see exactly what you're doing, but I'll do what you say." _Her voice seemed a little louder, and Clark cringed back at the nearness of her kryptonite-laced touch. _"How are you doing, Clark?"_

_"Hurry_," he managed to gasp out. Clark felt Chloe's alarm, and heard her say to Mike, _"We've got to get going. Now." _

Clark held on, brought to his knees by the immaterial, but crushing, weight of Perdita's soul-stuff. His concentration turned inward, focused on just holding on, not letting go. Clark pulled his aura inward, ignoring Mike and Chloe's terse comments as they fiddled with connecting and re-aligning Perdita's spirit with her body. His weakness worsened; in his physical body he would be panting heavily. Sweat would be beading off his forehead and dropping on the floor.

With gratitude, Clark realized that Perdita's "dead weight" was becoming just a bit lighter. Unfortunately, as Mike and Chloe worked frantically to re-tie Perdita, Clark realized that the loss of his strength paralleled the lessening of his burden. The weight grew less, but he grew weaker; there was no relief for him.

Clark felt his own aura shrinking and thinning under the strain. Alarmed, he realized it hadn't been this bad before. Certainly he'd been surprised at becoming weak at all, attributing it to being separated from his body, when the three of them had practiced earlier. But this time, the rapid draining seemed unusual. He hadn't "worked" in their practice sessions; holding another aura, keeping it from sliding away into the great abyss, was more strenuous than he'd anticipated.

But what seemed to be the venom in the stinger was the kryptonite. It had to have been Sheila's earrings; Chloe's aura hadn't had that fiery touch before she was exposed. And, just as his physical body shrank away from the green rocks, Clark's spirit was weakened by the kryptonite-contaminated touch.

Perdita seemed heavier, more unsteady in his grip, than ever. More than anything, Clark wanted to put her down, to take a rest. If he were in his body, sweat would be pouring off his forehead. He would be panting, as if coming to the finish line in a furious sprint. His arms would tremble with the constant grip, his legs waver with the effort of supporting him.

Clark gritted his teeth and held on. He felt himself contracting down to just a bright spot, a kernel of will and resolve. He lost Chloe and Mike's voices; hearing them took more effort than he could spare. He lost the sight of the hospital room around him. All that mattered was to bear the pain that came as Chloe touched him to take away some of the load, to hold on, not to let Perdita go, to keep her safe, to hold on, hold on.

Clark felt himself becoming light-headed. Unconsciousness was soon to follow. He spared just a moment to wonder what would happen when he lost consciousness – would he lose himself? Would he spin down into the abyss which he instinctively knew awaited Perdita if he let her go? With all his might he concentrated on holding on, not just to Perdita, but to himself. His "breath" came in short gasps, his "heart" raced. His "hands" clenched to the last bits of Perdita's spirit, his "knuckles" white with the strain.

With mingled relief and pain he felt Chloe's burning touch once again. She "unclenched" his "hands", and gratefully, Clark laid the last of his burden into her keeping.

_"Chloe,"_he managed to gasp out as he fell down, deep down into a pit of darkness.


	37. Plans Don't Always Work Right

_"Chloe,"_he managed to gasp out as he fell down, deep down into a pit of darkness.

_"Clark!"_she called back frantically, turning back to see his aura flicker. Fear raced through her. Instinctively, she did what Clark had done – she "grabbed" him, with her "hand." Chloe gasped at the burden; it was like holding up Clark's unconscious physical body. Her tiny form could not long support Clark's 225 lbs of solid muscle.

_"Mike!"_Chloe screamed out as she passed the last bits of Perdita's spirit to Mike, busily working amidst the girl's psychic connections of soul to body. _"We're losing Clark!" _Panic struck her. She'd been so busy with Perdita, she hadn't worried about Clark. She'd _never_ needed to worry about him. He was strong. But now he was fading away. The red column of swirling fire, Clark's aura that had almost blinded Chloe with its strength and bright purity the first time she saw it, now guttered like a tiny candle flame on the brink of extinction.

Chloe realized, as Clark had figured out earlier with Perdita -- it seemed to be an unconscious, instinctive realization -- that if she let Clark go, he would die. And yet her strength was so much less than Clark's. She wondered if holding Perdita had been as arduous for Clark as holding Clark was for her. Chloe knew she could not hold on for long.

_"Mike!"_Chloe screamed again.

_"I can't stop now!" _he called back, desperation in his voice. _"I have to finish or it's all for nothing! She'll die!" _

_Oh God. It's up to me. _The cold thoughts passed through Chloe's mind. Her "fingers" were cramping; soon she would lose her grip on Clark's unconscious spirit. Desperately hoping, she dragged him along with her and floated over his body. As she began losing her grip, Chloe metaphorically took him in her arms and leaped. Like falling off a cliff, the two of them together tumbled into Clark's body.

* * *

The strain immediately eased. Not only did Clark have the support of his physical form, Chloe gained a measure of strength from embodiment too. With relief she saw the metaphysical "threads" tying themselves back to Clark's depleted aura. Then, with alarm, she found the threads attaching to her as well. It was if Clark's body knew that it could not long survive without an animating spirit inside. It would waste away and die. Fiercely, the body fought to survive, doing whatever it had to. And now, _two_souls had come.

"Clark!" she screamed again, nudging his aura. But the red fire remained thin and wispy, denuded of some intrinsic vital force. Chloe hoped that Clark was only unconscious; what if he were permanently damaged in some way? At least his aura was still present, even though weak.

Chloe tried to do what Mike had done – attach the soul-stuff to the body. She tried hard to direct the body's unconscious grasping, tried to guide it to attach to spirit of its rightful owner. But the body, sensing bold vitality in one soul and anemic fragility in the other, reached for Chloe's aura. With increasing despair, she saw that for every thread that attached to Clark, five or ten attached to her.

And it felt….wrong. When Mike had "visited" her, even when he'd used her body, there was a familiarity borne of both being humans. Of both of them being, well, _of Earth_. Clark's body tried to fit her spirit in its form, but it wasn't right. For the first time, deep down in her bones (or, more accurately, deep down in_Clark's _bones,) Chloe realized how alien he was. Even seeing him perform wonders, feats no human could do, hadn't given her this deep understanding of his extraterrestrial nature.

His human appearance had misled her. Later on, when she thought about it, she remembered her biology classes. _We're analogous, not homologous, _Chloe thought. The wing of a bird and the wing of a bat shared similar function, but did not derive from the same embryologic tissue – analogous. Conversely, the wing of a bat and the paw of a lion shared a similar embryologic origin, but performed different functions – homologous. Clark was a bird in a bat world – all the bats/humans, and Clark-bird/Kryptonian, could fly. But he did it in a different way.

And now Chloe felt the discomfort of trying to fit into a Kryptonian mold. In retrospect, she thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't fit; had Clark's body been able to bind her fully, no doubt Clark's astral form would have been lost. Tiny tendrils of connection kept on brushing her; she lacked whatever it was they sought. Instead, they went to unconscious Clark, and tied themselves onto him.

It was quick. Almost before she knew it, Chloe was tied into Clark's body, sharing it with his depleted, non-responsive, unconscious aura. Sensing the relative densities of the threads that bound the soul to the body, Chloe felt as if she were tied in with ropes and Clark with silken threads. The threads put her into Clark's form in as close an approximation as possible, for human to Kryptonian. Chloe realized she was definitely in there, and she only hoped she could get out with Clark being OK. Right now, he was so weak, it would be fatally easy to dislodge him, leaving her the only inhabitant. The only inhabitant of a wrong-feeling, uncomfortable, _alien_body.

"Mike!" she called. The baritone surprised her; Chloe hadn't known that she could take control of the voice so quickly. But why should it surprise her? Mike had been able to do the same to her earlier. Unconsciously, she took a deep breath. She opened Clark's eyes.

_Wow._Clark must have been using Aura-Vision when he left his body, and it had obviously stayed that way while he was "out." If Chloe had not seen auras before when she practiced with Mike, she would have dropped her jaw open in amazement. Even with the previous experience, she marveled at the truer, deeper colors, the light she suspected was in a part of the spectrum invisible to human eyes.

Chloe swung Clark's head over to look at Mike and Perdita. Mike's purplish aura hovered over the girl's body; Chloe could see that Perdita's dull aura looked _different_, somehow. With luck, maybe throwing the last bit of Perdita's aura frantically at Mike, getting rid of Perdita to save Clark, wouldn't hurt the comatose girl. Chloe hoped, fervently, that the three of them had been able to help Perdita. Especially now since it looked like Clark was hurt.

She kept staring as Mike finished whatever it was he was doing. Chloe noticed that Mike's aura, too, was frayed at the edges, was thinning and weakening. Obviously the job had been hard on him too. She wondered what her own aura looked like – she'd been feeling weak at the end, too. Now, even though Clark's body was alien, it flooded Chloe with an indescribable energy. Strength, health, joy – it was all there.

She saw Mike fall weakly back into his body. The weak purple aura filled its physical form; Chloe saw the aura gain strength, glow more brightly. She gave a sigh of relief.

"Mike!" she called again.

He looked up dully. "Clark," he said. "Are you OK?"

"I'm not Clark", she hissed. "I'm Chloe. Clark is unconscious here."

Mike raised an eyebrow in weary surprise. "What?" he said, too tired to lift his head.

"Clark got really weak during the end of…whatever it was you were doing to Perdita," Chloe said. "Mike, it was like his aura was fading out. I had to grab him. We both ended up in his body."

Mike swiveled his gaze to look at Chloe's body, and Chloe followed. A shiver ran through her as she saw her own petite form, slumped in a chair. The aura-vision revealed all too clearly that it lacked the vital spark. Whatever bit of spirit that kept it breathing was obviously only enough to serve as a connection for the returning soul.

"Mike!" she said again, quietly but with great emphasis. "You've got to get me out of here!" _I don't belong in Clark, _she thought. _I want to be near him, but I don't want to __**be**__ him. _

Mike nodded. Chloe saw him close his eyes, assume the relaxed position he used for his astral projection. She saw the purple aura quiver, try to rise, then fall back once more into the confines of the man's body.

"I can't," Mike said flatly. "Not right now. I'm too tired."

Unhappiness twisted Chloe/Clark's face.

"Look, I know it's not great," Mike protested. "But I know from doing this before. I have to get a few hours rest before you can…before I can help you."

Chloe almost snorted in exasperation. What was this curse with her and Clark? Anytime she had an adventure with him, things always went wrong. Now she was stuck. Mike was the only one who could get them out, and right now she was sh!t out of luck.

"OK," she said reluctantly, bowing to necessity, the harshest master. Her mind began working again. If they stayed here, questions would be asked. Questions like, _Why is Chloe unconscious when she walked in here just fine, _and_Why does Mr. Reilly look so ill, _and _Maybe we should check you out too, Clark, since both your friends are so sick after only a short time in the hospital room. _Chloe paled as she considered the implications.

No, the only thing to do was to get out. Make a quiet exit, and head back to the Kent Farm, and get some rest. Then, in the morning, Mike could straighten them out. Hopefully, Clark would be back to full strength by then, and he could _have_his body.

And, since there were two awake souls among three bodies, the body without a soul would have to be carried. And since Mike looked like he'd just run a marathon in the Sahara Desert, that meant that she, disguised as Clark, would have to carry her own empty body. _And by the way, Chloe, try to do it very discreetly._ Again she thanked their lucky stars that they'd come so late in the evening – by now, most patients were asleep, the skeleton nursing staff busy charting at the station, and no visitors wandering the halls.

Chloe stood up, and up. She wobbled. She was taller than she'd ever been! The floor seemed forbiddingly far away. She held Clark's arms out for balance, then quickly grabbed the chair. Her hand bounced off its back once before she caught it. Clark had longer arms than she was used to, as well. Chloe concentrated on standing. After a minute or so, she and the body reached a rapprochement and she felt confident in her control.

Now to take a step. That would be a little more difficult, involving seeing the floor, seeing her legs, pushing off one leg, balancing, and setting the other leg down. Carefully, Chloe started by lifting one food; momentary vertigo assaulted her and she quickly set it down. Once more, she made mental adjustments; tried again. This time she kept her balance. Chloe grinned triumphantly.

After a few more minutes, she was clomping around the hospital room. No one would give her points for grace or style, but Chloe gradually became accustomed to the extra twelve inches of height, the longer legs and arms, the looser jeans. She carefully didn't think about the very distracting extra parts _down there. _

Soon Chloe walked normally. She did bang Clark's head on the TV one time; fortunately, there was no damage. She checked on Mike; he had slumped down once again and seemed to be drowsing. The Aura-Sight was distracting, but she didn't know how to turn it off.

_I'll get him moving, then I'll pick up my body, then we'll head out,_Chloe thought. She moved back over to the group of three chairs, began to shake Mike's shoulder.

She stopped as a wave of weakness and nausea passed through her. _What's going on? _Chloe thought frantically. Was her spirit getting rejected from the Kryptonian body already? Was something going wrong? Would she be able to reach her own body if Clark's was rejecting her? Clark's aura was still so weak…

"Clark!" she heard a voice call from the door. "Are you guys OK?"

Chloe sat down weakly in the chair as the nausea grew and worsened into actual pain. Belatedly she realized that Sheila, the nurse with the kryptonite earrings, had entered the room and was coming nearer. Chloe moved her eyes quickly to her partners; obviously, her own body was still untenanted and slumped in its chair, and Mike appeared mostly asleep. Suddenly the aura-sight slipped, vanished, and Chloe was seeing like a human again.

_It's up to me again. _"Sheila!" Chloe said, trying to omit all evidence in Clark's voice of the gut-wrenching uneasiness that grew more intense every moment. "Yeah, we're doing OK." She barely refrained from clutching her abdomen and rocking back and forth. Chloe pointed at her compatriots and said to Sheila, "Um…they're still meditating. Can I get you to come back in about fifteen minutes, please?" _Please let her believe that. Please don't let her come closer. _

Chloe's prayers were half answered. Sheila said, "OK, fifteen minutes," but then came to Perdita and gave the girl a quick once-over. Chloe repressed a harsh gasp, noticing as she did that the nurse's earrings were definitely, brilliantly glowing. The glow seemed brighter than it had at the nursing station; either the lights were dimmer here in the hospital room, or Sheila was closer to Clark than she'd gotten before. Chloe was in too much pain to guess which.

"Back soon, Clark." Sheila said with a little wave. "I've got to do Perdita's treatments shortly." She walked toward the door and the paralyzing pain lessened somewhat.

"OK," Chloe managed to choke out. She hoped it didn't sound too false. After Sheila left, the nausea and discomfort quickly faded. She took Clark's arm and wiped the sweat off his/her forehead. She set the arm down in her lap; it trembled.

_Egad. Is that what Clark goes through every time he gets near meteor rock?_Chloe asked herself, already knowing the answer. Another thing she hadn't really _known._Sure, she knew it intellectually, from what Clark had told her and from seeing it herself (there had been more than one time where she had to brandish green K to stop a mind-whammied or brainwashed out-of-control Clark), but this time she'd actually _felt_it down deep. Chloe thought of an analogy: reading about having sex versus actually having sex. Unfortunately, on a knowing-theoretically-versus-actually-experiencing things measuring stick, the sex was a hell of a lot better.

_OK, definitely have to get us out of here now. _Chloe gathered her composure. She stood up, still just a little wobbly. Not from being new to the body; this time it was a remnant of kryptonite exposure. Quickly, however, the trembling faded and once again she felt the sheer power of Clark's alien heritage.

Chloe walked to the door, peered out into the hallway. She cheered silently when she saw an empty wheelchair parked a few doors down. A few quick glances up and down the hall revealed no people; the aide at the nursing station had her head down in her paperwork.

After that, it was easy. Chloe shook Mike awake; then she easily picked up her unconscious, empty form and carefully settled it into the wheelchair. She made Mike wheel it down to the elevator while she distracted the aide's attention. At the hospital entrance, Mike waited with the wheelchair while Chloe went and got Clark's truck. Fortunately, none of them had lost any personal effects. Chloe's purse was still on the lap of her body, sitting patiently in the wheelchair; and Chloe was happy to find the keys to the truck in Clark's pocket.

This time, she made Mike distract the single attendant at the hospital entrance desk. While he made conversation with the elderly volunteer, Chloe easily lifted her body from the wheelchair and carefully placed it in the center of the truck seat. Buckling it in, and then pushing the wheelchair off to the side of the entranceway to join the fleet of other wheelchairs awaiting patient arrivals there, she waited a few moments for Mike to finish. He quickly got in the truck, and Chloe drove away.

No traffic slowed them on the late-night, quiet Smallville streets. By the time they reached the Kent Farm, Mike was snoring. The night's labors must have been arduous, Chloe thought. She had no idea what exactly he had done to Perdita, but whatever it was, it had taken a lot out of him.

She parked Clark's truck in its usual spot, then stared at the two unconscious forms in the seat with her. Sighing, she began with Mike. Chloe carefully carried his body up to Clark's room, where Rachel lay sleeping in the bed. She removed Mike's shoes, and set him on the bed next to his daughter. He gave a restless grumble that stopped when he reached out in his sleep and gathered his daughter to him.

Chloe went back down to the truck, and again stood still in amazement for just a moment. Mike was no lightweight – he was smaller than Clark, certainly, but he was stocky and muscular. And she'd lifted and carried him with less effort than she'd put into carrying her last sack of groceries. For a moment, she shivered again with the…_unearthliness…_of Clark's abilities. Chloe looked up at the stars again. The full moon shone down; the moonlight actually felt good. Warming, even.

She got to the truck, stared at her body, and inhaled deeply. Chloe would prefer to sleep on the couch in the farmhouse living room. But that might lead to questions. Shrugging her shoulders, she carried her body into the loft, settling it on the battered couch at the western end of the loft, parking herself in Clark's body on the rug on the floor. She stretched out and fell asleep.


	38. Greeting the Sunrise Together

Chloe awoke in the pre-dawn. Streaks of color tinted the eastern edge of the dark night's canopy. A few lonely birds chirped their irregular songs. She checked - Clark was still there, still weak. The fact that she could "check" on Clark at all amazed Chloe. Somehow she'd learned a lot about spiritual matters with this whole astral projection thing. Too bad it wouldn't be applicable at the _Daily Planet. _Then again, she thought, you never knew.

She felt Clark wake up. "Chloe?" he mumbled. Obviously he was still dazed and confused. Chloe didn't even know if he knew that they were…together.

"I'm here," she said quietly. Let Clark wake up a bit more, get stronger, before they addressed their issues.

"The sun…." Clark managed to squeeze out before he fell unconscious again.

The sun. What did that mean? Yes, it was going to rise soon. And yes, she was at the western end of the barn, so she wouldn't see the sunrise. Unless she moved out there. Suddenly Chloe recalled one part of the long conversation – the first fully truthful conversation ever between them - she'd had with Clark. It was the most interesting talk of her life. That conversation had cleared up_so_ many mysteries for her. He'd revealed his alien ancestry to her after she'd followed him to his Fortress of Solitude. After some unpleasantness involving rogue Kryptonians (which he'd cleared up in short order), and her getting home from Yukon Territory, they'd met in this very loft.

Flush with the amazement of knowing extraterrestrial life actually existed and was working on a farm in Kansas, Chloe had come prepared with ten pages of questions. Initially, they were both shy and stiff. Their relationship had changed and neither knew how to deal with it. Then Chloe broke the ice by demanding to know if he had tentacles, eyestalks, antennae, scales, a tail, or any other nonhuman extra bits. He'd snorted, met her gaze, and soon both of them began laughing. _Strange how he didn't offer to take off his shirt, _Chloe thought, _to show me. And why didn't I ask him to? _But deep down she knew that she still had feelings for even alien Clark Kent. And he knew it too. And it was easier to ask Clark about being an alien than it was to ask him about his feelings for her.

So Chloe concentrated on getting explanations for all the weird stuff that had happened in the past six years, interrogating him as to how much and in what degree Clark had been involved. Clark, for his part, seemed to be embarrassed at first, but soon grew amused at her numerous _Aha! _moments. Actually, Chloe thought that Clark seemed almost relieved that she'd found out his secret, confession being good for the soul and all.

They'd had a very long chat, staying up all night, welcoming the dawn. Chloe figured that Clark wanted to talk – heck, she would have in his position. And he hadn't been able to talk with anyone up to now. What could he say? _Hi, I'm Clark Kent, and I'm an alien from another planet, and that's how I saved you, with my alien powers. No thanks, I don't need any kind of reward. I just do it because I'm a good guy. _Clark had tumbled out stories of numerous episodes of valiant derring-do, and heroic rescues, all of which had to be covered up or lied about up to this time. Finally, he could speak freely, even if only to one person, and get the recognition he deserved so much.

One episode that Clark recounted had them both rolling on the floor laughing. It was the time Perry White had come to town. Earlier in their conversation, Clark had said that he was invulnerable. Chloe had asked why, then, had he gotten rope burns on his hands when he saved Perry from falling into Schuster's Gorge?

Clark smiled as he remembered that day – it was one of those days that seemed funnier in retrospect than when it happened_. "Do you remember we had a solar flare that week?"_

"_No."_

_"Well, I did, because it was important to me. I think my abilities come from the sun. When we had that flare, my powers were glitching all over the place – sometimes they'd work, sometimes they'd go into overdrive, and sometimes they wouldn't work at all. Rescuing him was one of those times where they didn't work at all. So I got rope burns on my hands."_

_Chloe considered that. "Then you went to save him and you didn't have any special powers?" she breathed. "Wow."_

_Clark brushed it off. "You know, he was right about the tractor."_

_"The tractor?"_

_"You remember he said it fell from the sky. Everybody just assumed he was drunk."_

_"I remember __**that**__. In fact, I mocked him about it."_

_Clark started chuckling. "But he was right. My dad had asked me to lift up the tractor so he could get at the underside to fix something. The solar flare was snafu-ing my powers and they were in overdrive. I went to pick up the tractor and ended up tossing it into the air." Clark laughed. "Then, when I went to see where it landed, Perry White just happened to be standing there, waiting for the bus. To him, it looked like I just came out of nowhere, because I was super-speeding there." Clark laughed harder. "I mean, he saw all these crazy Smallvillian things that were happening, and me and my parents were the only ones who knew why, and everyone else just thought he was just a crazy drunk with the DT's…" Clark broke off, unable to continue, laughing. _

_Chloe started giggling too, drawn in by his infectious laugh. "The mystery explained at last", she said. "I'm glad it worked out for him. And for you."_

Now, sitting in the quiet loft, Chloe figured out what Clark meant. He got his powers from the sun. She should go and sit his body down in the sunlight.

Chloe quietly descended the loft steps, headed out the barn doors. The morning dew gave a fresh scent to the fields. A few more birds chirped as a pinkish tinge appeared on the eastern horizon. Chloe opened the gate that separated the house yard from the farmyard and walked onto the manicured lawn. Ignoring the dew, she sat down facing east, her back to a tree. She closed her eyes; this time of day had always been her favorite - quiet, the stars fading as the dawn approached; the full day ahead, pregnant with possibilities. Chloe closed her eyes and drowsed.

She could actually feel the sunrise with her eyes closed. Not only did the subtle differences in warmth trigger her awareness, but the rays brought strength with them. She could actually feel Clark's body growing stronger, energy filling up reservoirs that Chloe hadn't known were depleted.

Chloe felt Clark, his aura, growing stronger too. It reassured her – his weakness wasn't permanent. He woke up, thrashing, confused. Chloe felt her hold on the body slipping. Alarm coursed through her. Clark, not fully awake, was pushing her out! She _grabbed _and hung on, screaming, "Clark!"

He didn't stop; she was at her limit. "Clark!" she called again.

"What?" he replied muzzily. Then, in a slightly more clear tone, Clark asked questioningly, "Chloe?"

"Clark, it's me!" she cried. "Stop pushing!"

Chloe could feel him coming to full awareness. "Chloe," he said, recognizing her presence. Mercifully, he stopped pushing. Chloe took the opportunity to re-adjust her _grip. _

"Clark, let me back in!" she begged.

"Chloe, what happened?" he asked, and she sobbed in relief at his clear, concerned voice. The inexorable force pushing her out had stopped.

"Clark!" she said again, and she took one hand off her _grip. _No resistance, and with a grateful sigh she dropped back into his body.

"Please don't push me out again," Chloe pleaded.

"No, no," Clark said. "What happened?" he asked again.

"You remember working with Perdita?" Chloe asked cautiously.

"Yes," Clark replied. "The last thing I remember is feeling really weak, and passing you the last of her aura."

"Clark, I think you almost died then," Chloe said seriously. Her panic slowly faded as Clark made no move to evict her. "Your aura was so weak…I grabbed you and we both, um, fell into your body."

Clark said nothing but she could sense his shock.

Chloe continued. "And I was so worried about you and you were unconscious all night, and now we're both in here, and I don't know how to get out, but please don't push me out, because I just know it won't go well and it might break me and it just feels wrong if you do that." She stopped to take a breath, interested to see that she still had some control over the body, even with Clark "awake."

"Um, yeah." That was all Clark said. Chloe figured she'd overwhelmed him with her outburst.

Calmer now, she gathered her composure and said, "We just have to wait for Mike to wake up, and he'll get us taken care of, I know it."

"Um, yeah." Clark lapsed into silence.

Chloe suddenly found herself tongue-tied. Words were her business, but all of a sudden she had nothing to say. Initial panic fading, she realized that Clark and she were in a very intimate position, sort of like being tied together face-first. Even more embarrassing, now she was beginning to sense Clark's feelings and emotions. She wondered if he was sensing hers.

They sat still for a moment, two souls in one form. Chloe gradually lost her fear at Clark's acceptance of her position. She remembered how easy it had been to "evict" Mike when he was the visitor in her body. But Mike was the one with the meteor power – he'd had no fear of being pushed out. Somehow, she knew, being "evicted" without Mike's assistance would be…unfortunate. It felt wrong, somehow.

Clark broke into her ruminations. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she responded.

Another few moments of silence. Then Clark asked, in a tone that implied he already knew the answer, "So we're stuck till Mike gets here?"

"Yeah," Chloe replied. Concern washed through her.

"What?" Clark asked. Yes, he was definitely sensing her feelings.

"Mike was pretty tired last night," Chloe said. "I had to carry him into bed. I think he might sleep in."

"We'll wake him up," Clark said grimly.

"Clark, do you really want to have a delicate operation done by someone who's really tired?" Chloe asked him tartly. Maybe he didn't care, but she did – it was _her_, after all.

"Oh," he said abashedly. "Um, well…" Deliberately, Chloe moved their eyes to her unconscious body lying on the couch. She felt Clark's embarrassment.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Yep, we'll wait for Mike to wake up, no problem."

The two sat for a moment, neither speaking.

"Clark—"Chloe burst out.

"Chloe—"he said at the same time. They both laughed.

"You first," Chloe said.

"No, you," Clark replied.

"OK," she said briskly. "I was just thinking that we don't have to just sit here. You could do what you normally do – " she broke off at Clark's laugh.

"That's funny, Chloe, because I was just about to say that I should be doing my morning chores, and ask you if it was OK," Clark said, amused. "I guess great minds think alike."

"Especially when they're time-sharing the same brain," Chloe responded. A cynical smile curved her lips. As ever, weird stuff was happening, and it was happening to _her._

"Right," Clark agreed. "You OK with chores?"

"Clark, this is a farm, I'm your guest, and the chores have to be done," she said. Then Chloe laughed and said, "And it's you that has to do them, not me. I'm just a passenger."

"All right then," said Clark, and stood up. He wavered and almost fell. "What was that?" he asked.

"Oops, I'm sorry," Chloe said. "I guess I still had control over some of the body." She began the indescribable motions to relinquish control. "Here you go," she said.

"That's a really _weird_ feeling," Clark said, heartfelt. He began walking, all trace of unsteadiness gone, and smiled.

"Yes, and think of how it felt to me when I had to get us home last night," Chloe riposted.

"What exactly did happen?" Clark asked. "Now you've got me wondering."

"Nothing that you'd have to worry about, Clark," Chloe teased. Then, in a more serious tone, she said, "You were unconscious, I was in your body, Mike was falling asleep. I got us all in the truck, drove here, put Mike to bed, and brought us up here. Then I fell asleep." She said impishly, "No hot nights out on the town, or running to Cancun with the Kryptonian powers."

Clark cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. "Actually, Chloe, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." She could sense his discomfort. Why did Clark feel like that?

"Um, I, um, doing the chores, um…"

"Get to it, Clark," she said sharply.

"Well, I usually do them in super-speed and I was wondering if that was OK," he got out in one long breath.

Chloe sat back, momentarily surprised. Then a smile curved her lips. "Clark! That would be the coolest thing ever!" Excitement coursed through her. "Ever since you told me, I've always wished I could do that!"

"Um, you don't mind?" Clark asked hesitantly.

"Of course not, Clark!" she said quickly. "I've always wanted to see what that's like."

"And now you have the opportunity," he replied, relieved at her acceptance. Clark thought about it – why had he been worried about her response? Chloe had always accepted his powers. It was typical she'd respond with eagerness.

"Yeah. This is going to be so neat – oh wait. Do you think it'll work for me? I'm human." She'd be _so _disappointed if she couldn't participate in it.

"You got me, Chloe," Clark said. "I've never, ah, this is kind of a unique situation for me too."

"Well, let's try it!" she said eagerly.

Clark cautioned her. "A couple of caveats, Chloe."

"What?"

"I always do a look around the farm first to make sure there aren't any witnesses. With regular vision and with, um extended."

"Oh." Chloe hadn't thought about that. "That's a good precaution."

"Yeah, it's saved my bacon more than once," Clark replied.

"And the second caveat?" Chloe asked.

"We can't milk the cows in super-speed," he explained solemnly. "Then we get whipped cream."

Chloe began laughing hysterically.


	39. Quiet Interlude

Chloe began laughing hysterically. She metaphorically "looked" at Clark, and he began roaring too.

"If we weren't in the same body, I'd hit you for that," she told him. He just kept on laughing. Somehow their constraint eased, and they were friends again just as they had been.

When he tailed off, Clark said, more seriously, "Really, all kidding aside, we do have to milk them like a regular person would. Super-speed just doesn't work for that."

"OK, Clark," she said, still chuckling.

"OK, then, here's the look around." She felt Clark squinting the body's eyes. Wait, what was he doing? Then…it was amazing.

"Wow," Chloe whispered. "Talk about looking at the world in a whole different way."

Clark turned them around. "Looks like Mike and Rachel are still asleep," he commented. Chloe saw their somnolent forms in Clark's bedroom. He turned some more and she saw her own body, very still, on the couch in the loft. A pang of concern shot through her; Chloe ruthlessly stomped it down. _I'll be OK as soon as Mike wakes up,_ she thought.

"Coast is clear," Clark announced, and just like that, they were back in regular vision.

"Clark, how did you do that?" Chloe asked. It just burst out of her.

"I, um, it's hard to describe," he said.

"Can you do it again while I watch you?" she asked. "I think I almost see how you're doing it…"

Clark shrugged his shoulders. "OK," he said, humoring her. No big deal to him. He could switch from regular to x-ray vision anytime. He focused on various items – the barn, the tractor parked nearby, the fence line – and switched back and forth several times. He could feel Chloe's rapt attention.

"I think I've got it," she said. "Clark, um, Clark?"

"Yes?"

"I'd really like to try this out if I could and if it's not too much of an imposition do you think you could let me have control of the eyes for a bit because I really want to try it?" Chloe gabbled on. God, she was losing her cool. This was the second time she couldn't stop her sentences.

Clark, obviously taken aback, said nothing for a moment. Then, ever the gentleman, he acceded to her request graciously.

"Sure, Chloe," he said. Giving up control still made him nervous. Then Clark decided that if he couldn't trust Chloe, who could he trust? "Um, you know how to take control?"

"Yeah, I figured how to do that last night," she said, preoccupied. Clark relinquished control of his own body (and wasn't _that_ an odd feeling) and watched, a bystander, as his vision wavered, then suddenly switched over into the x-ray mode.

"I did it! I did it!" Chloe exulted. The vision switched again. "I did it again!" She sounded so excited Clark smiled.

"Clark, can we try some of your other powers? Please?" Chloe asked. "That was the neatest thing…"

Oh well. What the hey. If it made Chloe happy…After all, she'd saved his life numerous times in the past; he owed her. They had plenty of time. And it was kind of fun, too, to see how excited she got. His powers were old hat to Clark. Now Chloe was trying them out, and it brought back memories of the excitement (and fear) when he'd first manifested those abilities.

"OK," Clark said.

"Oh, thanks! Thank you!" Chloe practically squealed. "What first?"

* * *

An hour later, Kryptonian physiology notwithstanding, they were both tired.

"Thanks again, Clark," Chloe said. "That was…was...well, indescribable."

"You? At a loss for words?" he teased.

"Well, it's not every day that I get a front-row seat to Kryptonian powers," Chloe retorted. Then, analytical to a fault, she said, "That was interesting. Some of it I could just do—"

"Like the strength. That's just there," Clark interjected.

"And some of it you had to teach me," she finished.

"I think it's because those are the powers I had to learn to use myself," Clark replied. "I told you about the time I got my x-ray vision? It took a while to learn to command that."

"Yes, and with you teaching me, it came easy," Chloe said happily. "Maybe that's because your body already knows what to do and I'm just reminding it." She felt Clark's interest. "Clark, it's so cool!"

He shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed.

"I wonder," she continued.

"What?"

"Well, I've noticed this morning…"

"What?" Now Clark was getting curious.

"Well, you obviously have the ability to see and hear a lot of things that are beyond human senses. I mean, look at the x-ray vision," Chloe began.

"And your point is?" Clark asked.

"But you seem mostly to just use a human-type sensorium," she finished.

Clark frowned. "That's a good point, Chloe," he said slowly. "You know, I never really thought about that."

"Why don't you go around seeing in x-ray, or in multiple spectra, all the time?" she asked rhetorically.

Clark was lost in thought. "I've got a couple of theories," he said slowly.

"What?" Chloe asked.

"The first is that I was made this way to fit in." Chloe looked surprised and Clark continued. "Chloe, I don't know if Kryptonians really do look like humans, or if I was…_molded… _in some way to fit Earth." He swallowed and said, "I told you about that time I lived my father's memories." She nodded. Clark continued, "He looked just like me. Maybe there _is_ some sort of template or mold for Kryptonians visiting Earth, and maybe it's set for human-default, so we don't stand out as unusual." He shrugged. "Or maybe Kryptonians do look like humans. I don't know." Clark said nothing for a moment, then said softly, almost to himself, "Maybe if I'd finished my training at the Fortress, I'd know more about Krypton right now."

Chloe considered that for a moment, decided to let his last statement lie. "And the other theory?" she asked.

"That I did have these powers, even when I was a kid, but I unconsciously suppressed them to fit in with my parents – my adoptive parents," Clark amended. "Protective coloration. Then, in the stress of puberty, or when I hit some predetermined point, the powers came out again."

Chloe shrugged their shoulders. "I guess we won't know."

Clark said, "All I know is that it – the human senses – are what I'm most comfortable using, and that I have to make an effort to use x-ray vision, or the hearing." He grimaced. "Although more and more, the super-hearing is getting to be the default. Which I kind of don't like, because I don't want to invade people's privacy. And it's annoying sometimes. I'm worried where it might be that I have to make an effort _not_ to use the super-hearing."

"Yeah," Chloe agreed. "As a journalist, I never thought I'd say this, but there is such a thing as too much information."

"Exactly!" Clark said. "Some things you just don't want to know."

"Clark, I do think you see deeper, or farther, or whatever, into the spectrum than I do," Chloe said. "When I first started, um, seeing through your eyes, colors looked deeper and brighter than I was used to."

Clark only shrugged.

Chloe changed the subject. "I also found out that farm chores are incredibly boring."

Clark laughed.

"No, really!" Chloe protested. "Even when you do them at super-speed, your time perception is changed, so it still feels like it took you three hours to do them. Even if you really did them in five minutes." She smiled. "Except for the milking, of course."

"That's why I wear my watch all the time, Chloe," Clark said. "I use super-speed so much that I constantly have to check what time it really is. I can't go by my apparent sense of duration. If I did, it would feel like it's already ten a.m."

"Instead of six-twenty?" Chloe asked sweetly.

"Yep." He shrugged. "That's just how it is." Clark switched them to x-ray vision and scanned the house once again. "My mom is up making some breakfast," he announced. "Let's go and get a shower and have some breakfast." He added hopefully, "If we make a lot of noise, maybe Mike will wake up."

They walked in to the old farmhouse. Martha Kent stood at the stove, cooking pancakes.

"Good morning, Clark," she said. "Where's Chloe? I thought she was spending the night."

Clark and Chloe had a moment of wordless communication. Then Clark sped to the barn loft and came back in the house carrying Chloe's unconscious body.

"Clark!" his mother exclaimed. "What's the matter with Chloe?"

"I'm OK, Mrs. Kent," Chloe said from Clark's body. Martha gave her son an odd look. "But this is going to be kind of hard to believe…"

Half an hour later, Martha Kent was shaking her head in numbed disbelief as Chloe sat at the kitchen table, describing her plight while eating pancakes.

"So, you're really OK, Chloe?" Mrs. Kent asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mrs. Kent," Chloe replied, swallowing a mouthful of pancake with butter and maple syrup. She was shamelessly taking full advantage of Clark's Kryptonian metabolism and eating (for once) all the pancakes she wanted – she could never eat this many in her own body without gaining weight. "We just have to get Mike to reverse the process."

"Well, if you're sure…" Martha trailed off. She fixed her son with a gimlet eye and said, "Clark?"

Clark took over the voice. "Yes, Mom?"

"Clark, I expect you to make sure that Chloe is all right." Martha said it firmly. Chloe was touched by her concern

"I will, Mom," Clark replied. Chloe could feel his resolve.

"_Glad to know you care," _she told Clark, not speaking the words aloud, communicating as they did, thought-to-thought.

"_Hey, it's because of me that you're in this fix," _Clark sent back. _"I want to make sure you're OK." _

"If you're done, honey, could you do the dishes while I get dressed?" Martha broke in. "I mean you, Clark."

"Sure." Mrs. Kent disappeared upstairs and Clark began clearing the table.

"No super-speed?" Chloe asked him.

"Why bother right now?" Clark replied. He looked up through the ceiling with a momentary burst of x-ray vision, and said, "Mike and Rachel are still sleeping, the chores are done. We've got a little time to kill."

"Oh," Chloe replied. She hadn't thought ahead. She "sat back" as Clark loaded the dishwasher, scrubbed the pots and pans, and cleaned up the stove and table. As he finished, Mrs. Kent came downstairs, dressed in one of her power suits.

"Thanks, Clark," she said. "I've got to do a little work here before I head out. I'll be in the front room."

"OK, Mom," he replied; right after Clark spoke, Chloe said, "Thanks, Mrs. Kent."

Martha turned back to look at them, an odd expression on her face. "Do that again," she said, looking intently at them.

"What?" Clark asked for both of them.

"Clark, you say something, then Chloe, you say something," Martha asked.

Clark shrugged the shoulders for them both and said, "Well, the morning chores are all taken care of."

Chloe then said, "And, Mrs. Kent, I found out that farm chores are boring,"

Clark: "But they've got to be done."

Chloe: "Well, at least your mother cooks a good breakfast. Did Lois ever try cooking when she was staying here?"

Clark, groaning: "Chloe, she did, and may I say that Lois' cooking is the culinary equivalent of the Tunguska event?"

Chloe: "Clark, only you would use a meteor analogy to describe Lois' cooking."

Clark: "Well, it fits."

Mrs. Kent came over and grasped Clark by the upper arms, staring him in the eyes. "I can really see it now," she said.

"What?" Chloe wasn't sure which one of them asked.

"You really are there, Chloe," Martha whispered. "It was so weird, I didn't want to believe it." She swallowed. "But when Clark talks and then you talk, I can _see_ the difference. Clark really is a different person—I mean you're different, you're not Clark."

"I know what you mean," Clark interjected unexpectedly. "It was like that when Mike was visiting Chloe. It's…it's weird to see."

Martha straightened her shoulders. "Oh well. This is Smallville." And with that, she seemed to sum up six years of strangeness. She turned to walk to the front room. A knock on the door startled them all.

Instinctively, Chloe grabbed control and x-rayed the door. Fear coursed through her. "It's Dr. Caselli," she whispered.

"Caselli?" Mrs. Kent asked. "The man who…"

"Yeah," Clark said. "What does he want here?"

His mother strode deliberately to the door. "Let's find out." She opened it. It was Dr. Caselli. Dark circles under his eyes and a sagging face suggested that he'd had a sleepless night. "Yes?" Martha said.

"Senator Kent?"

"Yes?"

"Senator, I'm Dr. Caselli, from Belle Reve, and I'm here regarding one of my patients, Mr. Mike Reilly," the doctor said in an ingratiating tone. "I noticed you were at the hearing yesterday….May I come in?"

Martha looked back over her shoulder at her son. He nodded slightly. "_What are you doing?"_ Chloe asked Clark internally.

"_We've got to hear what he's up to," _Clark responded.

"Come in," Clark's mother said to Dr. Caselli, opening the door. "What do you have to say?" Martha asked shortly as the man entered.

"I just wanted to let you know that despite his lawyer's protestations, Mr. Reilly is a man who is seriously mentally ill," Dr. Caselli said. "We've had him at Belle Reve for a year, and though he tries to cover it up with a façade of normality, he is a dangerous man."

"Dr. Caselli, from what I saw at the hearing yesterday, it seems as though Belle Reve hasn't really been doing anything to help this man," Martha said tartly.

"Ah, but we couldn't put everything into the official records," Caselli squirmed.

"Yes?" Martha said, raising her eyebrows, disbelief in her tone.

"Senator Kent, you've lived in Smallville for years," the doctor said. "You are well aware that certain people in this area have been exposed to meteor rock and have developed certain…well, let's call them_metahuman _powers." He nodded at Martha's momentary look of surprise, quickly masked by a poker face. "I know, Senator, just from reading the papers, that you yourself, and your family, were once taken hostage by meteor-infected escapees from Belle Reve."

"Yes," Martha breathed, trying not to flash back to that horrible time when they'd been trapped, frightened, in the control of a drug-addicted meteor freak. Only Clark could save them, and at the time he had no superhuman powers. She had never been so frightened in her life. She'd had nightmares for weeks.

Caselli seemed to recognize that he'd touched a nerve. "I assure you, Mr. Reilly may appear harmless, but he suffers from a similar affliction. At any moment, he may turn on you. He may use his meteor powers and hurt you."

Martha remained silent.

Caselli continued. "So, Senator, I urge you, if you see him, please contact me immediately." He pulled a business card from an elegant card case. "I can make sure he gets into protective custody. We can help him. Just call me at this number." He pointed to one of several numbers imprinted on the card.

Martha looked at Caselli. Her bullsh!t detector was pinging at the highest setting. She'd met Mike, and her instincts told her that Mike was a good guy. And, even if she hadn't heard the full story about Mike and Dr. Caselli's transgressions from Clark and Chloe that morning, Martha was able to recognize a lying weasel when she saw one. Working in politics had refined that skill to a high art.

Chloe couldn't restrain herself. "So, the court orders him to be released from Belle Reve and you want us to help you put him back in?" she spat.

"Mr. Kent, I presume," Caselli said, not fazed by the attack. "Mr. Kent, I'm sure you yourself are well aware of the danger posed by many of the inmates in Belle Reve." He smiled thinly. "I assure you, Mr. Reilly's release by the court was a mistake. He desperately needs further treatment, and we have the means to treat him effectively now."

"What?" Chloe asked suspiciously. She could feel Clark dithering next to her, not sure if he wanted to tell her to shut up, or to tell her to keep going to find out more about their enemy's plans.

The doctor pulled a small box out of his coat pocket. Clark jumped to the forefront and x-rayed it, his danger alert pulsing. Or rather, he _tried _to x-ray it. The box remained opaque.

"_It must be a lead box," _Clark told Chloe in their silent communication.

"_Why would Caselli be carrying a lead box?" _Chloe responded.

At that moment, Caselli opened the box. A small red stone gleamed amidst the box's padded interior. A weird feeling coursed through Chloe. She looked over at Martha and saw that the latter had paled.

Caselli took the stone out of the box. "Here, Mr. Kent, is the cure." He continued, "We have found another variety of meteor rock –" he grabbed Clark's hand and put the stone into it "—a red variety, that seems to reverse some of the effects of the green meteor rock infection." Caselli closed Clark's hand over the red kryptonite.

**Author's note: The phrase "culinary equivalent of the Tunguska event" is plagiarized from Jasper Fforde's hilarious book, "Something Rotten". Don't miss this hilarious series about Jurisfiction Operative Thursday Next, Literary Detective. **


	40. On Red K

Caselli closed Clark's hand over the red kryptonite.

Chloe hardly heard the last part of the sentence. A wave of pleasurable warmth rolled over her from head to foot. Internally, she stretched like a cat. A tinge of red seemed to cross her vision, just for a moment. She squeezed the stone in their right hand tighter; it felt _good_.

Being here with Clark felt pretty good, too. In their weird, crowded, one-body state, she retained the memory of her own body, and acted as if it were there, in astral form, with her. She leaned up against Clark's aura, closer than she'd allowed herself to get before.

Clark seemed different too. Suddenly he seemed stronger, more vital, more alive. Chloe barely heard Dr. Caselli going on about how this new technique had cured several Belle Reve inmates as she rubbed against Clark. He didn't seem to mind.

_"Chloe_," Clark said, his internal voice wavering. _"I want you."_

Well, _that_ was a surprise. Clark had been Mr. We're-Only-Friends for about five years now, despite Chloe dropping hints every now and then that only Helen Keller could miss. OK, maybe Clark could miss them.

Martha's voice penetrated Chloe's odd sensual languor. The sudden note of fright in it caught Chloe's attention. "You're saying that you're treating the Belle Reve inmates with _red meteor rock_?"

"Yes, and that's a sample of the stone," Caselli said triumphantly.

Chloe looked to see an even more extreme pallor on Martha's face. Martha reached over and took Clark's hand. "Clark, honey, can I see that stone, please?" she asked tightly.

The penny dropped. Chloe gasped inside. _This was red kryptonite. _She leaped back from Clark in horror. She'd seen Clark on red-K a few times and never wanted to see it again. When he was on it, he had no qualms, no caution. He'd tell his secret to anyone, show his powers openly. Not only that, he displayed a frightening lack of social etiquette, to put it mildly.

Clark didn't open his fingers despite his mother's tugging. "I'd like to hold it for a little bit longer," he said in his lazy, red-K voice.

Chloe knew why. It felt good. The red K sent pleasure radiating out from its spot in their hand. She gritted her teeth and fought against it.

"_Clark!" _she said frantically to him in their strange duality. _"It's red K! You've got to set it down!" _

"_But I don't want to, Chloe," _Clark said, in a reasonable tone.

Chloe looked at the scene – Martha tugging on Clark's hand, Dr. Caselli so far politely waiting, but certain to become suspicious if Clark continued his intransigence. With desperation, Chloe triggered the super-speed – not using it, but switching to the perception that went with it. Clark followed, amused at her arrogation of one of his powers. Now Martha and Dr. Caselli stood frozen, and Chloe had some time to argue, to convince Clark.

"_Clark. You know what red K does to you," _Chloe cajoled. She wished she could take over control of Clark's hand – she'd get rid of the Red K. But it was Clark's body, he had control, and he wasn't giving it up.

"_Call me Kal,"_he replied, a little annoyed.

Kal? Oh yes, Clark had mentioned him as his as$hole other personality that came out when Clark was on Red K.

"_Clark, Kal, please," _Chloe pleaded. _"I'm asking you as your best friend." _She'd played that card before with Clark and it mostly worked.

She felt Kal moving "closer" to her. If she were in her body, Kal would be standing a lot closer to her than would be socially acceptable. Chloe bet that Mike would see their auras mingled if he were to look at Clark's body right now.

"_What if I don't want to be friends anymore?" _Kal asked.

_What? _A wave of desolation crossed through Chloe. She barely heard Kal's next words.

"_What if I want to be your lover?" _

"_What?"_Chloe gasped.

Kal wheedled,_"Chloe, sleep with me when you get your body back and I'll give up the red kryptonite." _

"_What?" _she gasped again.

"_Come on, Chloe, you know you want it," _Kal said. The irritating thing was that he knew her too well. Chloe did want it. She'd had fantasies of sleeping with Clark. Then she gritted her teeth. The fantasies were of Clark, not of this pushy, obnoxious version of him.

"_I don't want to sleep with __**you**__,"_ she said. Chloe could feel Kal's momentary frustration.

"_Come on, Chloe, don't you know how much I want __**you**__?"_ Kal said.

His aura advanced on hers. Kal was definitely invading her personal space with a vengeance. _"Let me show you."_

And suddenly, Kal was closer yet, and Chloe was picking up his thoughts. She **was** Kal/Clark.

_They were at the Daily Planet, Chloe working on something and he was hanging around like he often did. She was saying something, but Clark wasn't really paying attention, because his gaze had been caught by her low-cut blouse. Delicious-looking. Sudden thoughts of burying his face in her cleavage….she smelled so good…. _

_Being high on red-K, checking Chloe out with x-ray vision, seeing that the loose jeans and clunky shoes concealed a body that was seriously hot….realizing she was infected by an alien parasite and not caring, because they were making out in the back seat of Pete's car, and did it feel good…._

To her horror Chloe felt their shared body begin to respond to the lust-filled images. Even worse, Clark's – no, Kal's – no, **Clark's **memories stimulated something in her, something that resonated with him, bringing up her own memories. And worst of all, she knew that, in the same way she was getting Kal's/Clark's memories, he was getting hers.

_A veil lifted and suddenly Chloe remembered being infected with an alien parasite, and losing all inhibitions. Clark must have been on red-K too, because they were together in the back of Pete's car, making out hot and heavy. She found herself aching with need._

_Clark was out of his head with fever brought on by inhalation of kryptonite-infected fungal spores. She sat at his bedside, reading a love letter. She'd had to write it, to get her thoughts in order, and the only thing that gave her the guts to go through with reading it to him was that Clark was unconscious. "I've got a confession to make…I'm not the girl you think I am." No, she wasn't the nice girl she pretended to be; she was a jealous bitch who wanted to jump Clark's bones, to do the nasty with him, and to hell with Lana. _

"_Stop this, Clark!"_ Chloe ordered, trying to push him away. But when they were embodied, she couldn't move him if he didn't want to move, and the same held true for them in their astral forms. _"Clark, stop it!"_ But more of his memories flooded her.

_Seeing Chloe dressed in only his football jersey, sitting in his barn loft, saying, "I'm devoted to you, Clark." And then finding the strength somehow to push her away, then mostly regretting that action when he stayed up all night in fierce arousal, thinking of what could have been, if he'd "taken advantage" of her and done what they both wanted to do. _

_Talking with Chloe, the one person he __**could **__talk with, about his fears of hurting Lana by losing control during sex. Remembering his nightmares (but not telling Chloe this part), nightmares that started as erotic dreams but turned to horrifying visions of the broken, torn, ripped body of his partner. In his nightmares, the woman he was with, the woman who he wanted to rub all over and warm up with his heat vision and touch and kiss, the woman with whom he lost control and destroyed with his love, was Chloe, not Lana. _

Kal stayed within her personal space, close by, despite her trying to push him away. Chloe found herself confused. Kal was right – she did want him, and he wanted her. **Clark **wanted her, but he would never say it outright. It took his uninhibited, red-K personality, rude and uncouth, to avoid their careful "friends only" minuet and say what he wanted. And his memories called forth her own…

_Clark was going off to fight the rogue Kryptonian General Zod and he might not come back. Chloe, giving in to impulse, reached down, pulled his head to hers, and savored one final kiss. A wave of warmth at his kiss went from her mouth, traveling right down to her pelvis and leaving her gasping. _

_Chloe saw Clark with his shirt off….she tried to keep it from showing on her face, but lustful thoughts plagued her for the next week….Clark had broken up with Lana – one of the many events of the soap opera that was their relationship – and Chloe couldn't help but feel a spiteful little tinge of happiness….Clark had caught her, kept her from falling to her death, and all she could feel was the warmth of his body close to hers….Clark, sitting next to her while she worked at the __**Daily Planet, **__Chloe all too aware of the nearness of his body…looking at Clark as he walked away, and checking out his ass…_

"_You see!"_Kal's voice was triumphant_. "You __**do**__ want me!" _

_God help me, I do. But not like this. _From deep inside herself, finding strength she didn't know she had, Chloe stopped the half-wanted, half-dreaded flow of memory. _"Clark – Kal," _she said stonily, _**"move back."**_


	41. Arms Control Treaty

"_Clark – Kal," _she said stonily, _**"move back."**_

He did.

He was smart enough to figure that things weren't going as he'd like. _"I'd just like to be with the most wonderful woman I know," _Kal said in a crude attempt at seduction.

_Hold on, girl,_she told herself. Chloe focused on the physical body, away from Kal, away from his temptations. Her/their hand still clasped the red kryptonite. Suddenly the pleasure emanating from it seemed jaded, tainted, _wrong. _Chloe shivered. Her lustful memories dissolved, chased away by fear.

_Clark can't help himself, _Chloe thought. _But I can. He's not human. I am. I can fight this. I've got to get him to put down the red-K. I can't force him. We're in his body, we're playing by his rules, he's stronger than me. I'm the one that has to get us out of this. _

Chloe tried again. _"Kal, please give the stone to your mother."_

Kal pouted. _"We've been through this before, Chloe. You have to say you'll sleep with me."_

"_OK! OK! I'll sleep with you!" _Chloe said, exasperated.

Kal's eyes narrowed. Strange how even though they were in astral form, Chloe got a sense of his expressions. It was like he was there and she was looking at him, and vice versa.

"_You're just humoring me, Chloe," _Kal said. _"I can tell you don't really mean it. We're close here, real close." _He leered at her. _"Not that I mind it, but I really want to be close to you in a different way." _His knowing glance made it obvious what he meant. _"Come on, we can't lie to each other in here. Each of us can tell when the other one is telling the truth. Or lying."_

"_All right!"_ Chloe almost screamed, exasperated. _"Here it is. I do want you. But you're on red-K. And I don't like that. So after you give up the stone, and I'm back in my body, you can talk to me. You can convince me to sleep with you then."_

"_I don't know about this talking thing," _Kal said petulantly.

Chloe took a deep breath. _"Come on, Kal," _she cajoled. _"You know I want you. I just admitted it. And you know I'm not lying on that." _

"_That's right," _Kal said, cheering up.

"_Then you know how hard it'll be for me to say no. Are you saying that you, Clark Kent –"_

"_Kal," _he interjected.

"—_all right, Kal, won't be able, with all your powers, and your feelings for me, and my feelings for you, to convince me?"_

"_Well, no,"_Kal said hesitantly.

"_And a little advice, just to help you – girls don't like to be just told, 'Sleep with me.' We like to be courted a little bit. Wooed. Made much of."_

Honestly perplexed, Kal asked, _"Don't you want just to get right down to the fu—"_

"_No!" _Chloe said firmly. _"Give up the red K and you get a chance to persuade me into bed. That's the deal."_

"_Is kissing allowed in this persuasion thing?" _Kal grumped.

"_I'll give you one free kiss, and you have to make me ask for more," _Chloe said.

"_Three free kisses."_

_"Two."_

"_OK. How about touching?" _Kal asked, sounding a bit more cheerful.

"_Touching is allowed. Within limits," _Chloe said. God, she wanted to touch him, and she wanted him to touch her. And he knew it.

"_Limits?"_ Kal asked.

_"I set the limits and you have to persuade me to go beyond them," _Chloe said.

Kal definitely seemed happier now. _"Removal of clothing?" _he asked.

_Geez, this is like negotiating an arms control treaty, _Chloe thought. Then the metaphor she'd used struck her and she almost broke into hysterical laughter. _It__** is**__ an "arms control" treaty. _

_"Clothing removal," _Chloe said in a businesslike tone. _"Yes, under two conditions."_

_"And they are?" _Kal asked, entering the spirit of the negotiation.

_"First, __**you **__can't just take them off. You have to make __**me**__ ask you to take them off."_

Kal said nothing, only gave a lascivious smile. Obviously he didn't expect that to be much of an obstacle.

_"And no clothing destruction. No ripping or tearing. I don't have a ton of money to replace my wardrobe."_

_"That's your two conditions?"_ Kal said.

_"Wait, there's three conditions now."_

_"That's not fair."_

_"Hey, you're getting the chance, and I'm setting the rules. And I think you'll like this one."_

_"What?" _Kal asked intently. She had him now.

_"Whatever article of clothing I take off, you have to take off too."_

Kal leered cheerfully. _"OK, but you have to take it off me."_

_"Um…"_

_"Chloe, if I'm taking off your clothes, you have to take off mine. It's only fair," _Kal pointed out in a faux-reasonable tone. _"You take off my t-shirt, I take off your bra." _He smiled broadly. "_Tit for tat." _Chloe snorted. Kal continued, _"And I'll let you touch me anywhere, no limits."_

Chloe tried hard to restrain her shiver. She couldn't. Kal smiled brightly, very happy now.

_"OK," _Chloe said.

"_And you have to wear sexy underwear," _Kal said. Yes, he was definitely in negotiating mode now.

_I'd do that anyway, Kal, _Chloe thought. _"OK, but I get to pick it out," _she told Kal. _"You don't get to see it unless you persuade me to take off my clothes. And no x-raying." _

Kal smiled again. _"OK."_

"_Do we have a deal?" _Chloe asked.

_"Licking and sucking?" _Kal asked hopefully, pushing his luck.

_"No, only using your hands to touch till you make me say that licking is OK," _Chloe said firmly. _"And no rough stuff. You have to stop if I tell you to. No using your strength unfairly."_

Kal had a momentary calculating look, then put on an offended air. _"Chloe, I wouldn't do that." _

She raised an eyebrow. _"Like you didn't just now?" _she asked.

Kal was smart enough to look abashed. _"Sorry," _he said. Chloe could tell he was still calculating how this would affect their negotiations.

She knew that Clark never would use his strength to coerce her, but she wasn't sure about Kal. Kal was the jerk personality, obnoxious, pushy, crude, irritating. But, she realized, not evil or malicious. Chloe wasn't sure of him, the calculating look made her a little nervous. But she had gotten him to give his word….

Kal continued, and Chloe could hear the truth in his words. _"Chloe, I won't use any force, or my abilities in that way." _He was taking the lead in the negotiations now. _"The deal is, you can leave anytime. But I'm betting I can make you want to stay. _In an obvious attempt at fairness, he added, _"And I can leave anytime too." _He smiled again. "_But I won't want to." _ Another wave of lust crashed over Chloe suddenly at the knowing confidence in his voice.

He must have felt it in her too, because he leered at her knowingly once more. _"Chloe, it's all consensual, and I think you're going to consent to a lot."_

She restrained herself from moving closer to him. All this negotiation had roused long-dormant fantasies – certainly on his part, but on hers, too. She had a momentary thought involving a lot of naked skin – no! She wasn't going there. Chloe forced herself to remember their situation and be businesslike.

"_Have we got a deal?" _She'd reached her final offer and wasn't going to give any more.

Kal must have sensed that. _"Deal," _he said, still somewhat reluctantly.

_"Then give the red K to your mother, and when all of this is over, you've got your chance." _

_"OK," _Kal said, just a little reluctantly.

He dropped them out of super-speed, opened his hand, and let Martha take the red K.

Losing the pleasurable feeling of the red kryptonite made Chloe feel gray. It was bad for her, for them, but God, what a rush. Another tinge of red crossed their vision.

And then she felt Clark come back to himself. He recoiled, not liking the person he'd been. He scrambled "back", leaving her alone as she could be, given the circumstances. Chloe could feel his embarrassment and humiliation, and felt herself shaking in reaction.


	42. Aftermath

Chloe ignored Clark, choosing to concentrate on hearing and seeing Martha and Dr. Caselli. She caught Martha putting the red K back into the lead box and snapping it closed, cutting off Dr. Caselli's long-winded peroration about the wonderful results he'd had at Belle Reve with it.

"Doctor," Martha said. "Thank you for your concern." She began ushering Caselli out the door. "I assure you, doctor, that I will certainly call you if I have any concerns." By now she had Caselli out the screen door, and the two of them faced each other on the front porch.

Caselli grimaced, obviously realizing this was the best he was going to get. "Thank you, Senator. I remind you that, if you see this man, he is mentally ill. Please protect yourself and your loved ones by calling me as soon as possible."

"Thank you, doctor," Martha repeated, then stood silently as Caselli got in his car and drove away.

As he drove away, Chloe saw Caselli pull out his phone. She activated the super-hearing. Caselli was on the phone with someone. One sentence came to Chloe with very clearly.

"_I'm betting that Sullivan and Kent are involved somehow. Why else would the daughter be at the Kent Farm?"_

Indistinct muttering from whoever was on the other end of the line.

"_They seem more likely than that Lane girl and the photographer geek. There was nobody else in the courtroom, and the lawyer was under surveillance. Who else could it be?"_

More muttering.

"_No, I didn't see Sullivan, but I saw the Senator and her son."_

Frustratingly, the identity of the person with whom Caselli was speaking remained a mystery.

Caselli continued. _"I got them both to touch the red meteor rock. From what happened to Padgett and Furcal, I bet that one of them has some sort of meteor power. Let's see if the red rock messes it up. We've just got to get Sullivan exposed to the red rock. We can try again later on." _Caselli ended the call.

Martha slammed the front door open and hurried back inside, bringing Chloe's attention back to her with a rush.

"Clark? Are you all right?" she called. Martha knew, better than anyone, what the Kal personality was like. "Chloe?" No response.

Martha paled again. Oh, no, what had Chloe done? Or what had happened to Chloe? Was she OK, in there with Clark under the influence of red K? How had she gotten Clark to give up the red K? Martha knew that she herself would never have been able to do it. "Chloe?"

Martha pulled up at the sight of her son's body, slumped in a chair, looking desolate. "Give us some time, Mom," Clark said softly. She could tell it was Clark.

"Clark, is Chloe OK?" Martha asked. She was worried; Chloe was like a daughter to her.

"Just give us some time, please, Mom," Clark said wearily.

Apprehension coursed through Martha. _Something_ had happened. But what could she do? "OK," she said. "I'll be upstairs working in my bedroom." She went over to the stairs, then said loudly, "Oh, hello, Rachel."

The little girl stood uncertainly on the stairs. "Hello, Mrs. Kent. Daddy and I are up now."

"That's fine, Rachel," Martha said, motherly instincts coming to the fore. "Clark, our guests are awake," she called as they walked back into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Rachel," Clark said tightly. "Mom, I guess I'll be in the barn. Finishing up."

"OK, Clark," his mother said. She reached up, pulled down his head, and kissed him on the forehead. "Whatever it is, make it right," Martha whispered.

"I don't know if I can," Clark murmured wretchedly.

Clark looked up as Mike descended the stairs, sleep-rumpled hair standing on end. Apparently he'd found the pajamas and robe Clark had left for him, as Mike was no longer dressed in yesterday's clothes.

"Good morning, Clark," Mike said expansively. "How's Chloe doing?"

"Um, fine, I guess," Clark mumbled.

"Well, I think we should take care of that little problem right away, don't you?" suggested Mike.

"_Yes!" _Clark heard Chloe say.

Mike stepped off the stairs into the living room, and raised his eyebrows at Chloe's unconscious form on the couch. He turned to Rachel. "Rachel, honey, why don't you go in and get some breakfast from Mrs. Kent? I think I heard she was making pancakes."

"That's right, Rachel," said Martha, who had come to the living room to greet their guests. She didn't need Clark's significant look to pick up the hint. "Do you want regular pancakes, or blueberry?"

"I've never had blueberry pancakes," Rachel said wonderingly. "Can I try them?"

"You can, Rachel, and you can pour the batter on the skillet too," Martha said, skillfully leading the girl away from the other three adults.

Mike wasted no time. "I've been worried about this all night," he said. "Let's make it right."

Clark and Chloe remained silent. At Mike's direction, Clark pulled up two chairs, and he and Mike sat near Chloe's still form.

"OK, Clark, you and me touch Chloe," Mike said. "I've noticed it seems to work better that way." He smiled. "I don't think we'll have any problem, though. Five minutes deep breathing, then we're going in."

Clark obediently closed his eyes, did the measured breathing. He could feel Chloe inside him, angry, holding herself well away. It was with relief that Clark sensed the advent of Mike's aura. Chloe welcomed their "soul man" eagerly too.

Soon Clark felt the odd sensation of spirit being detached from body once again, but this time it was Chloe leaving. He and Chloe could not help but come in contact, in the metaphorical "close quarters", yet they maintained an icy politeness far from their previous easy camaraderie.

The process drew to its close, and Clark opened his eyes, brought up the aura-sight, and saw Chloe being guided by Mike back to her own body. He gave a sigh of mingled relief and regret. Clark wished he'd had more time, time to apologize, time to think about what he'd said when he was Kal, time to talk with Chloe in their odd union where lies could not be told. But maybe not. Chloe was pretty mad. Maybe some lies needed to be told – accepted fictions, little white lies, to grease the wheels of social interactions. Clark shook his head in perplexity. All he knew was that he was in trouble.

* * *

Chloe raised her head – her own, finally. She stretched stiff muscles, sat up, yawned. Looking across at Mike, she could tell the moment when he returned to his body. The old story of the eyes being window to the soul was correct – his dull eyes gained vitality, spirit when he returned. She carefully didn't look at Clark, and he seemed willing to return the favor.

"Um, thanks, Mike," Chloe said. "For taking care of that first thing." She deliberately continued to avoid Clark's gaze. Desperate to get away, she said, "I've got to hit the shower."

"OK," Mike agreed. Clark only nodded; Chloe caught it out of the corner of her eye. She almost fled up the stairs.

"Everything OK?" Mike asked curiously.

Clark continued gazing up the stairway for a moment. "Uh, yes," he said. "Um, we had an argument."

"Oh," Mike said. With the social acumen of a man who had been married, he changed the subject. "Did I hear there were pancakes?"

"Yep," Clark said, dragging his mind away from Chloe and their argument. Or was it an agreement? He couldn't help wondering. Looking back at Mike, Clark said, "As soon as you get some breakfast, I can drive you and Rachel to Metropolis. You have an address, right?"

"Sure," Mike said. Obviously the thought of leaving Smallville motivated Mike. He duplicated Rachel's trek into the sunny kitchen, and Clark heard him greeting Martha, thanking her for the breakfast, deciding on blueberry pancakes too.

Clark fought a sudden Kal-like urge to x-ray through the ceiling to see Chloe in the shower. Being Kal had brought some buried….things…to the light of day. He beat down the temptation, and calling to his mother to tell her, stepped out and went to the barn loft.

* * *

Chloe scrubbed furiously in the hot spray, glad to be back in her own body, _not in that overgrown lunkhead anymore. _There was no denying that it had been fascinating, astounding even. But the red-K episode at the end had poisoned the whole thing.

She stared into space, ignoring the droplets of water than ran off her head and over her eyelashes. She'd been humiliated, her carefully hidden attraction to Clark dug out and exposed. Chloe had accepted that Clark loved Lana, and didn't have feelings that way for her, Chloe. But it seemed that Clark had a little lust packed away in his closet too. Too bad Chloe was only the number two.

That was what was infuriating. To know she was second, to know that Clark just wanted to keep her in his back pocket, the old story of trying to keep a cheerful countenance while Clark stared at Lana. Pay no attention to Chloe, no! She's just the good friend, never letting on, always being supportive.

After a few years, Chloe had gotten the message. She'd made herself move on, date Jimmy Olsen, forced herself to treat Clark just as a friend, no hope of romance. Maybe every once in awhile there was an ambiguous comment, a careful dance of flirtation that had deniability on both sides.

But Kal had come in with all the subtlety of a pile of fecal material hitting the rotary air impeller. She hated herself for responding to his raw desires. She hated that she couldn't lie, couldn't push him away with the false smile and upbeat attitude that worked so many times before. No, in their unique situation, Kal had known that she had feelings for him. Well, feelings for Clark, anyway. Kal was a jerk.

And he'd made her admit her attraction out loud. No longer was her secret cocooned safely within her; Kal and Clark both knew it. Chloe spat warm shower water bitterly. This was a poor return for her years of keeping Clark's secret. Forcing her to admit her own things kept close to her heart – ripping it out of her – it hurt. How could she face Clark again? She'd gotten the impression that he was just as embarrassed as her, once he was off the red K. Maybe that would help. But…the word _awkward _just didn't go far enough in describing their relationship now.

And she had to go downstairs and see him again! In fact, it was worse. They'd planned to have Clark drive Mike and Rachel to their lawyer, then drive back, pick Chloe up, and super-speed her to Metropolis. Now she couldn't bear the thought that Clark would be holding her. And for how long? Maybe it was only three seconds for her, but Chloe knew now that his time perception was different; it felt a lot longer to him. The embarrassment….

She grabbed the washcloth and scrubbed furiously. "That's it. I'm riding with Mike and Rachel." It would be three hours together with Clark, but there would be two other people in the car. She and Clark wouldn't have to make conversation, and she wouldn't be taking advantage of his super-powers.

She carefully didn't think about how it would be three hours with Clark instead of three seconds. It didn't matter, anyway.


	43. A Tense Ride To Metropolis

Clark pushed the accelerator down, trying to coax more speed out of the battered farm truck. Mike sat in the front with him, and Rachel and Chloe sat in the extended-cab seat behind them. Clark noticed that Chloe was sitting as far away as possible from him.

Mike had quickly picked up on the strained interaction between Clark and Chloe, and had retreated into a defensive quietness. Fortunately, Chloe had started talking with Rachel. The eleven-year-old, still oblivious to unspoken social minefields, had chattered on once Chloe got her talking.

"I had to leave my Barbie at the foster care place," Rachel was saying mournfully. "I couldn't fit her in my suitcase, and Miss Lois said to come right away."

"That's terrible!" Chloe said, sympathizing. "I know what it's like to lose a friend." She shot a glance at Clark in the rearview mirror; he winced. "We've got to get you another Barbie doll. Clark, we're right by Granville; stop at the Wal-Mart there so I can pick up a Barbie for Rachel." It was not a request.

"OK," Clark said obediently. Actually, he wasn't averse to stopping; internal alarms were going off. For the last ten miles, they'd been paced by an anonymous black sedan. Sometimes behind them, sometimes in front of them, it never was more than a mile away. It was hard for Clark to see amidst the motion of driving, but he thought that one of the two men in the black sedan might be Dr. Caselli. So it would be interesting to see what happened when the truck left the interstate highway – would the sedan follow them?

It did. Clark's danger detector went from just barely tinkling to a full peal. Chloe seemed to pick up on his nervousness. He caught her staring at the black sedan, momentarily dropping her "Barbie accessories" conversation with Rachel before she got back in the swing of things.

"So, did you have the Barbie camper or the convertible?" Chloe asked Rachel. Despite her calm voice, Clark could _feel_ her apprehension. It seemed their time together had left some sort of link – certainly strong emotion was still coming through, despite the fact that now they were in two bodies, not one.

Clark pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot. The black sedan passed them, and drove away into another aisle. Clark parked the truck, and only then did the black sedan settle into its own parking space, about two aisles away.

"Why don't you go with them, Mike?" Clark asked quietly. "I'm sure Rachel needs your Barbie expertise."

Mike rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. Clark wondered, if like Chloe, Mike retained some sort of unspoken connection and was picking up on Clark's apprehension. Clark realized that Mike had noticed the black sedan, too. Being kidnapped _did_ tend to make you more aware of your surroundings. As the three exited the truck, Clark called.

"Chloe?"

She looked back at him. "Yes?"

"Could you please get a box of tenpenny nails?" He willed her not to ask questions.

Chloe sensed the importance of the question. "Sure, Clark."

He smiled tentatively at her, but she walked away without returning it. Clark felt momentary exasperation, then a stab of affection for Chloe. Despite their current awkward circumstances, Chloe still knew when he thought something was important, and she backed him up.

Clark lost himself in thought. He spat bitterly. He always hated when he'd been Kal. First was that he lost the ecstasy, the "high" of the red K. Clark knew it was bad for him, but he still wanted it. It felt so good….Next, Kal always did things that Clark ended up having to apologize for. Things Kal had done had seriously screwed up Clark's life. He counted himself lucky that Chloe already knew his secret; if she hadn't, certainly Kal would have given it away. Kal didn't care.

And now! Lusting after Chloe, putting the moves on her, basically _blackmailing _her into having sex with him - how could he have said and did the things he did to Chloe? _Don't answer that, _he told himself. He gave a rueful smile. Kal did what Clark wanted to do, but wouldn't. Clark had ethics; Kal didn't. Kal saw what he wanted, and acted.

Then Clark's rueful smile disappeared when he considered that Kal's actions had likely cost him his friendship with Chloe. He carefully edged away from the yawning abyss of loneliness he saw ahead. Losing her - that would be too much to be borne.

He snapped out of his reverie as the wind blew through his hair. Clark stayed with the truck, casually keeping the black sedan in the corner of his vision. The two passengers stayed inside the car, one talking on a cell phone. Now that both cars were stationary, Clark confirmed that the passenger was Dr. Caselli. Clark didn't know the other man, but his large size and muscles labeled him as some sort of bouncer or enforcer.

Clark extended his hearing, trying to hear Caselli's conversation. Alas, the Wal-Mart parking lot had too much extraneous noise. By the time Clark had patiently identified and filtered out all the unnecessary stuff, Caselli had finished his conversation and flipped the phone closed. The two men stared at Clark's truck; Clark was glad that the distance meant that their eyes wouldn't meet. They could tell that someone remained within the truck, however.

Rachel's happy "hello again, Mr. Clark" broke Clark from his super-hearing concentration. Chloe handed him a box of nails, saying nothing.

"I've got to check the oil," Clark said, slipping from the front seat. "Why don't you all get buckled up while I do that?"

The three made noises of agreement. Clark headed to the front of the truck. He lifted the hood and leaned over the engine. Then, carefully making sure Mike and Rachel could not see him, Clark slipped into super-speed.

He rushed over to the black sedan. Pulling out the box of tenpenny nails, he drove at least two into each of the sedan's tires. He scattered the rest of the nails in the parking lot lane, most of them behind the sedan. He hoped that the two men would think that the nail punctures were just bad luck. Clark also hoped that the other cars parked nearby wouldn't suffer. He pushed the last nail in the front left wheel, and just for insurance, used a short blast of heat vision around the nail to make sure there would be a hole in the tire.

Clark sped back to his own truck, carefully not looking at the black sedan. But he was rewarded by hearing the hiss of escaping air. Clark gently checked the oil dipstick on his truck (all OK) and lowered the hood.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Clark saw with satisfaction that Caselli was standing by the sedan, kicking its flat tire. One of its flat tires.

As Clark got the truck back on the interstate, uncomfortable silence loomed. Desperately, Clark asked, "Which Barbie did you get, Rachel?"

The ceremonial showing of the Barbie doll and its clothing, accessories, companions and accoutrements, with copious commentary from Chloe, took up the next seventy miles.

* * *

"Clark, Chloe, again, I can't tell you how much I appreciate all you've done for me – for us," Mike said. They'd dropped him off at the Metropolis address in his letter.

"I think you'll be fine," Clark said. "Contact us next week, let us know how things are going, OK?"

"I think it would be better not to use the phone," Chloe murmured. "Maybe contact us like you did before?"

Mike gave them a knowing nod. "If I can."

They all clasped hands one last time. "Rachel, you do well in school now," Chloe said.

"I will, Miss Chloe!" the girl said. "I want to be like you and Miss Lois."

Clark raised his eyebrows in mock alarm. "A frightening thought," he said, not really joking. Then he reached down to hug the young girl. "Take care, Rachel," he said.

She shook his hand shyly. "Thank you, Mr. Clark. And say thank you to Mrs. Kent too. I really liked the blueberry pancakes."

Clark smiled. "I do too, Rachel."

Clark and Chloe watched the two march into the office building. A tense silence grew between them.

"The _Planet_ building is only about a mile away," Chloe hinted.

"OK," Clark said tersely.

As they climbed back in the truck, Clark saw a folder partially hidden in the side door pocket.

"Oh, Chloe," he said, picking it up. "Mary Daugherty gave this to me. It's all the people she was involved with – the false court documents thing. She wanted you to investigate and expose it."

Chloe took the folder eagerly. "This is great!" she said, leafing through it. "There must be twenty people here." Clark could see her mind racing, the wheels turning, a story to be investigated. She began reading the papers in the file, obviating the need for any awkward conversation between them.

Soon they were at the _Daily Planet _building. As Chloe gathered her things and put her hand on the door handle, Clark leaned over.

"Chloe."

"What?" she asked warily.

"I really am sorry," Clark said quietly.

She sighed. "I know, Clark. I can't talk about it right now, OK?"

He nodded.

Chloe opened the door and exited the truck. Clark looked for her to say something, but she remained silent. She gave one look back at him before she entered the Art Deco doors and went out of sight.

Clark let out a long breath. It would be a long drive home.


	44. We Have To Talk

Clark spent the next two days working furiously around the farm, trying to keep himself busy enough that he didn't think about the whole episode. It didn't work. He couldn't get Chloe out of his head.

Finally, that evening, he called Chloe. No surprise, she was still at the _Daily Planet_ despite the late evening hour.

"Chloe, hi," Clark saw awkwardly.

"Oh, hi, Clark," she replied in a noncommittal tone.

"Can we talk?" Clark didn't know what to do other than to ask straight out.

Silence.

"Please?" Clark added.

Chloe gave a sigh. "I guess so," she said. "Can you meet me in five minutes in the _Planet_bullpen?"

"On my way," Clark said. It took him a great deal less than five minutes to speed to Metropolis and make his way to the entrance of the _Planet _building. Not wanting to annoy Chloe in any way, he waited until the allotted time had elapsed before Clark presented himself in front of her.

"Um, hello," Clark said tentatively. It killed him to be on such strained terms with Chloe. Ever since they'd met in eighth grade, they'd been able to have great conversations together. Sometimes it was Chloe on a monologue, with Clark just sitting back and listening in amusement; sometimes it was an impassioned argument; but most of all, it was two friends just sitting down, shooting the bull, making easy talk.

And now there were awkward silences.

Chloe looked at him, said, "Hi." Nothing else. Apparently it was up to Clark to get things going.

Clark suddenly found himself annoyed at his position, like a supplicant in front of her desk. He came around to her side, ignoring her slight move back.

"Can we talk outside?" Clark asked. "Will you take a walk with me?"

Chloe raised her eyebrows, nodded. Rummaging under her desk, she pulled out a pair of flats and switched them for her heels. She put on her suit jacket and the two ascended the stairs.

The night air was cool and refreshing. The ever-present traffic noise was a muted hum, the afternoon rush hour having long since ended. Occasional cars and taxis passed the two as they walked in silence on the sidewalk. They passed a hotdog stand, now closed up. Despite its shuttered counter, odors of grease, grilled sausage and mustard lingered in the air. A lonely wrapper, caught in the branches of a spindly tree, fluttered in the breeze.

Chloe heard Clark draw a deep breath.

"The first thing is, I want to say I'm sorry," he said.

"Well, that's a start," Chloe said tartly.

"You're still mad at me."

"Give the man a cigar."

The two walked on for another half-block. Then Clark tried again.

"Chloe," he said, stopping and turning to look at her, "I am sorry for the way that Kal – that I – propositioned you." Clark sighed. "Kal is pretty much lewd, crude, and socially unacceptable."

Chloe couldn't restrain a small smile.

Clark continued. "But what I'm not sorry about, Chloe – " he stopped again to look her in the eyes "- is having it come out how I feel about you."

A look of surprise crossed her face.

"For months now I've been, um, falling for you. And I would have never have said anything, because we agreed to be friends."

"Friends?" Chloe echoed questioningly, more as a means to get Clark talking than for any particular reason.

"Yeah, just friends. And we've been good friends. For years. But things lately have been making me think, what am I missing here?" Clark took a deep breath, launching into an impassioned peroration.

"Chloe, you're smart, and beautiful, and funny – "

"I'm _funny_?"

"I meant that you have a sense of humor."

"Oh."

"And you're the best friend a guy could have."

"Thank you," she said coolly.

"But lately, Chloe, I've been thinking about you, a lot." He turned away from her and the two began walking again, a small breeze rustling Chloe's hair.

Clark continued. "It's been a year since my Dad died, Chloe," he said softly.

Chloe felt a tinge of sympathy for Clark at the pain in his voice. She said nothing, letting Clark go on.

"And, seeing him go, it made me realize that all those advice columns are right. Seize the day, because you never know when tomorrow might not come."

"Go on," she said neutrally.

"And, that's why I'm glad a little bit about Kal and what he did," Clark said, deliberately not looking at Chloe this time. "Kal says things Clark can't, or things Clark is too afraid to say." He stopped again, voice intent. "So I'm glad that he said what I couldn't. Maybe in a bad way, but the gist is that I'd like to take our friendship to the next level."

Chloe's stomach twinged. "Come on, Clark," she said bitterly, "you know that Lana is the one you love."

Clark looked down on her with a sad smile. "I used to think so," he said. "But in the last few months, look what she's done. She's turned me away, gone to live with Lex. She's pregnant with Lex's baby. She's given up on me."

"But have you given up on her, Clark?" Chloe asked. She knew the answer. Lana would always come first with Clark.

"I'll always have feelings for Lana," Clark said quietly. "Just like I'll always have feelings for you, Chloe." He caught the welling of tears in her eyes, deliberately pretended not to notice it. "But, like I said, I've been thinking a lot in the past few months. My life is messed up because of my secret. You know that, Chloe."

"I do," she whispered.

"And I never felt like I could tell Lana," Clark said. "Thank God I didn't. Lex would know everything now." He reached out to grasp her arm, the first time he'd tried to touch her. "But you learned my secret on your own. You cared enough to pay attention to me, to find out what was different. You were smart enough to put the pieces together. You didn't sit around waiting for me to tell you. You didn't spend all your time talking about "secrets and lies."

"That's a little unfair, Clark," Chloe said, playing devil's advocate.

"Is it?" he challenged her. "Look, when I proposed to Lana in that alternate time line – you know, the day I lived twice – "

_The day your father died, _Chloe thought but didn't say.

"- the first thing she did was run off to Lex to talk with him about it. She couldn't keep the secret." Clark found himself getting upset. "The very first thing was to start acting and talking in such a way that Lex knew there was a secret." He caught his breath. "You've never done that, Chloe. You don't give away confidences. You can be trusted. Lana can't."

"Strong words, Clark," Chloe said.

"I guess I've kind of grown out of Lana," Clark said. "All up to this time I thought she was some sort of princess. But her actions have proven she's not."

_What can I say?_ thought Chloe. Heck, she'd lived with Lana for three years after Aunt Nell moved to Metropolis and Lana had moved in with the Sullivans. Lana always did expect to be treated like royalty. But Lana didn't have the reciprocal _noblesse oblige_. She was a basically selfish character.

"So," said Clark, encouraged by Chloe's small shrug, "with this whole episode, I was thinking how great you are –"

"Laying it on with a trowel, aren't you, Clark?" Chloe said, but she smiled as she did so.

"—and trying to figure out how to say it in some nice way with lots of plausible deniability but still get the message across." Clark shook his head ruefully. "Then Kal came and just, well, just said it."

They went another block in silence. A scruffy-looking man in a T-shirt and soiled jeans, walking the other way, gave Chloe an appraising glance as he neared them. Then, catching Clark's glare, he quickly averted his eyes and edged a little farther away from them.

"So," Clark said, when it became obvious that Chloe wasn't going to say anything, "I have to apologize for making things so ridiculously awkward between us."

Chloe gave a little smile as she recalled the words she'd spoken to Clark years ago, when she'd drunk Kryptonite-laced Gatorade that acted as a love potion. She'd come on to him pretty strong (she still had memories of being dressed only in his football jersey, and trying to seduce him in the barn loft), and he'd been a gentleman about it. After her apology, they'd never mentioned it again.

Unwillingly, she recognized that the shoe was on the other foot now. In typical Smallvillian irony, their feelings for each other had undergone a one-eighty. Back then, she'd been in love with Clark, he'd been the one who wanted to keep things on the friendship level. Now, he'd finally seen the light, so to speak, but Chloe wasn't sure. She'd been burned too many times, hidden her own feelings when Clark moaned on about Lana in one of their many soap-opera-ish travails. She was tired of being the number two.

"I don't know, Clark," Chloe sighed. Her thoughts were awhirl. She couldn't deny that she had some feelings for him, too. Their strange union of auras had told Kal, Clark, that she did. So a straight denial was out.

"I'm tired of being the number two," she told Clark straightforwardly.

"You're not, anymore," he said.

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Chloe, I don't know how to prove it to you. All I can do is try to show it by my actions," Clark said. "I just want to be…more than friends."

Chloe slowed her pace to an amble, far different from her usual businesslike-stride of the _Planet_workplace. Clark slowed with her. Chloe took a deep breath.

"I can't," she said. "At least not right now."

By his frown, Clark obviously remembered the love-potion episode too – how ironic that Chloe was quoting his own words back at him.

"I understand," Clark said quietly. "I know I haven't given you any reason to say yes. And you and Jimmy –"

"Jimmy and I broke up yesterday," Chloe blurted out. She didn't want to say why. Jimmy had accused her of being Clark's girlfriend more than his own. She wanted to laugh hysterically at that.

"Oh," was all Clark said, but Chloe didn't fail to notice a very slight change of expression that told her that Clark was OK with them breaking up.

"But we can still be friends, right?" Clark asked. Now he looked extremely nervous. "I mean, even if things are awkward between us, I don't want to lose your friendship, Chloe." He looked down at the sidewalk and whispered, "It's all that's kept me going in the last year."

"Yeah, Clark, I would hate to lose our friendship too," Chloe said seriously.

"So, we can be friends?" Clark asked.

"Yes."

"And every once in a while I can flirt with you, or bring you flowers?" Clark was smiling now.

"Yeah," Chloe said slowly.

"And now and then, I can do something that lets you know I'm still thinking about you?" he said slyly.

"What, am I negotiating with Kal again?" Chloe asked, laughing.

"Well, I was thinking of what you told Kal," Clark admitted. "You girls like to be wooed. Made much of." They both smiled. "So I figure I'll start working on that."

"OK, Clark!" Chloe said, throwing up her hands. "You do that. But I'm not making any promises."

What the hey. Maybe this was the best way. She'd get a chance to see what Clark really did. And she'd told him up front not to expect anything. Besides, she owed him a chance.

"But we are still friends, right?" Clark asked, outwardly cool. But Chloe, suddenly getting another tinge of that weird connection between them that had happened ever since the aura episode, felt Clark's deep anxiety. He really was worried about losing her friendship.

"Still friends," Chloe said, taking his hand and shaking it. His eyes lit up. Then his face dropped as she dropped his hand.

He gave a tentative smile, and assumed a lighter tone of voice. "Well, OK, then," Clark said, as they turned the corner and headed back to the _Planet _building, "how's the story going so far?"

"This is going to be big, Clark," Chloe said, immediately turning into Reporter Chloe. "I'm working with Bill Wambsganss on it – "

"Bill from upstairs?" Clark asked.

"Yeah. Kahn assigned him to the story. She figured I needed some guidance in avoiding libel lawsuits. And there's some more research, and a few more interviews, and then we are going to blow the lid off Dr. Caselli's little plan."

"Is there any proof Lex is involved?"

"No, unfortunately," Chloe said, drooping a little. "You and I know he is, because we know how Lex is. But he's very careful. No evidence. We're trying to trace Dr. Caselli's financials to see if we can prove any link to Lex or to Luthorcorp."

Their voices faded as they entered the _Planet _building. A short time later, the doors opened again, but passersby saw no one enter or exit. Only a gust of wind blew past.


	45. Transition

Dr. Caselli swore. Nothing was going right. First there'd been the surprising court loss, after he was told that the documentation would ensure their victory. Then the temporary elation resulting from tracking down Reilly and his daughter and arranging their kidnapping was canceled out by the absolute disaster of that scheme.

Not only had the abduction failed, with no sign of where Reilly had disappeared to, but there was worse. Padgett was dead. His long-term ally, henchman, minion – call him what you will, but Caselli had lost a loyal, trusted employee. An employee who had no troublesome scruples.

Adding insult to injury was the simultaneous death of the Mafia enforcer who'd been paired with Padgett. Caselli had had to make some promises to get him, and now it looked like the good doctor wasn't going to be able to keep those promises.

Caselli knocked a pile of patient folders off his desk in anger. Paper spilled out, a sudden blizzard of white obliterating the carpet. He pounded a fist on the corner of his desk in frustration.

How had Reilly done it? Caselli knew that Padgett had gotten Reilly and the daughter into the car; a pre-arranged code on a ten-second phone call had confirmed that. Ever wary of leaving traces, Caselli had told Padgett to make no calls after that, not until they had the specimens safely at Reeves Dam.

How had Reilly escaped from Padgett, and gotten his daughter away too? Caselli hadn't thought that Reilly's meteor power extended to controlling a host's mind, enough to do murder or suicide. But two dead bodies were a potent argument to the contrary. If Reilly's meteor ability was that strong, Caselli had to have it. What could he get from Lex Luthor for that?

Lex Luthor. Caselli shivered. Despite his best efforts at keeping the Reilly disappearance under wraps, Luthor had somehow found out. To say he was displeased was an understatement. Lex Luthor had summoned Caselli to visit him in his sanctum. There, Caselli was pointedly left standing in front of the desk, not offered refreshments.

Luthor had bluntly told him to fix this, now. Reilly had to be found and brought under control. He wanted Reilly's meteor power, and the research team lacked data to duplicate it. And Lex Luthor wanted Reilly silenced.

"You've gotten careless, Dr. Caselli," Lex Luthor had said in his cold voice. "Do you think Mr. Reilly will be able to make any connection between Belle Reve and Luthorcorp?"

"No, Mr. Luthor," Caselli said nervously. "It's all confined to Belle Reve. It won't go any further."

"That's good for you, doctor," Lex had said coolly. "If evidence of some sort of connection to me or to Luthorcorp were to leak out, it would be unfortunate."

Caselli swallowed convulsively. He'd been around powerful men enough to know the meaning of such understated comments such as "it would be unfortunate" or "that would be ill-advised." Statements like that tended to be lethal – to someone.

Lex continued. "Also, doctor, if Mr. Reilly were to talk, that would be your problem specifically. As you recall, our agreement was that I was not to appear in any way. Any medical licensure or malpractice problems are your own responsibility." He gave a thin smile. "I hope your professional liability insurance is paid up."

_Bastard! _Caselli thought. But Luthor had him and he knew it. Caselli had gotten careless, and now he was going to pay.

"There has to be some connection with Sullivan, or Kent," Caselli said, returning to the here-and-now. "I sent Reilly after Sullivan, and she's been poking around. And the daughter ended up at the Kent Farm." He tapped his fingers nervously. From his surveillance and sources, he'd also found that Sullivan was a good friend of the Senator's son. And Padgett, before his untimely demise, had placed Reilly and the daughter at the Talon with who else but Sullivan, Senator Kent, and her son. There had to be some sort of link.

The phone rang. Caselli restrained himself with difficulty from throwing it on the floor.

"Yes?" he snarled.

"Dr. Caselli?" came the bored tones of the Belle Reve receptionist.

"Yes?" even more angrily.

"You have a call from a Chloe Sullivan from the _Daily Planet_," the receptionist said, snapping her gum between words. "Are you available?"

Surprise overtook Caselli. Then a slow smile crossed his face.

"I'm always ready to speak with a member of the media," he said quietly. "Please put Ms Sullivan through."

* * *

A few days later at lunch, Clark took a call from Chloe.

"Hey, Clark, can I ask you something?"

Hope rose in him. At least she was talking to him. Despite their rapprochement, awkward silences came up at inopportune moments.

"Sure."

"Can you get me an interview with Mrs. Daugherty? You know her better than I do. I have to get a final interview with her about the article," Chloe said.

"When?"

"ASAP. This story is getting bigger and bigger."

"OK, I'll see what I can do." He disconnected Chloe and called Mary. They quickly reached an agreement, and Clark contacted Chloe again.

"She says we can come tonight, if you can make it. She'll be in Perdita's hospital room," Clark informed Chloe.

"Darn! I've got to work late tonight," she grumbled. A pause.

"I could, um, you know, pick you up," Clark offered. He missed Chloe. Their conversation had been stiff and strained the last few days, even with the clearing-the-air evening talk in Metropolis a few days ago. Clark hadn't realized till now how much he enjoyed, no, depended on Chloe's snarky sarcasm and rapier wit to help him make sense of the absurdities and trials of everyday life. Frankly, life was boring without her. "That way you'd make it in time."

Another pause. Clark shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Would Chloe's passion for her story outweigh the awkwardness she still exhibited around him?

"OK, I guess," she said hesitantly, then firmed up her voice. "Yes, Clark, I'd appreciate that."

"Eight o'clock?" he asked.

"That's good."

"OK, I'll see you at the _Planet_at eight tonight," Clark said, confirming.

"Thanks, Clark. 'Bye."

Clark smiled. The day was looking up.

* * *

Clark met Chloe that evening at 7:50. "Hey, Chloe," he said, trying to be casual. "What've you got?"

She pointed to an older man, just leaving the bullpen. "That's Bill Wambsganss," she said. "We've been working together." A gleam in her eyes told Clark that she was hot on the trail of a big story. "Clark, you won't believe it! We've got proof that over ten people have been wrongly imprisoned in Belle Reve, some for over three years!"

"Wow," Clark said. "I guess it was good that Mike came to us and started the whole thing."

"It could be any of us locked up in there," Chloe said pensively. "All you have to do is show some sort of meteor power, and wham! You're in stir and you can't get out. It's downright Kafkaesque."

Clark said nothing. He knew Chloe's fear that she would become like her mother, mentally ill and needing to be institutionalized. He couldn't say that he was safe, either; if anyone caught him displaying his powers, it would be attributed to a meteor ability, and Clark would be at risk too.

"Those documents that Mary Daugherty gave us are the clincher," Chloe said eagerly. "We have enough to kick booty and take names. Dr. Caselli is going down." She turned to look at him. "I just have to get a final interview with Mary," Chloe said. "Um, thanks for offering the ride, Clark." Still a little strain in her tone.

"You're welcome," he said, equally awkwardly. Clark gestured to the stairs. "You ready?" he asked.

"Just let me gather up my bag," Chloe said. They walked together up the stairs and out the Art Deco doors. Despite the evening hour, pedestrians still flocked the sidewalks. Clark and Chloe looked at each other, then wordlessly trekked down the block to a secluded alley they were very familiar with. Clark looked down at Chloe; she nodded. Making a last quick check for witnesses, Clark swung her up into his arms and took off.

He stopped at a secluded spot in the parking lot of the Smallville Medical Center and set her down.

"Thanks," she said, a little stiffly.

"You're welcome," Clark replied. Chloe was still nervous around him – she'd stopped thanking him for the super-speed rides, except on special circumstances, some time ago. It was just part of what he could do, what friends would do for each other. And now she was retreating behind the mask of formality again.

They made their way through the SMC halls to the familiar room. Mary was not in the room; Perdita remained comatose, unmoving in her bed, no change in the monitor displays.

"I really thought we did something," Chloe said, disappointed. "I mean, we went through all that, and, well, I thought something was going to happen…."

"I know what you mean," Clark said. "I mean, you were closer to Mike than I was and maybe you saw what he was doing more than I did –"

"I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now," Chloe interjected.

"—but I was really hoping that Perdita would do better," Clark finished.

"Me too," Chloe said. "I'd hate to think it was all for nothing." She looked around, saw no one near. "Clark?"

"Yes?"

"Can you look with your Aura-Vision?" she whispered. "Can you see if anything is different about Perdita?"

Clark obediently called up the altered sight. "She doesn't look a lot different, Chloe," he reported unhappily.

"Clark! Chloe!" The quiet call came from the door. Mary Daugherty came in and shook their hands. They sat down.

"Mrs. Daugherty, I'm grateful to you for the documents that you gave Clark for me," Chloe began in a formal tone. "I'm also grateful that you've consented to this interview."

"Thank you, Ms Sullivan," Mary replied just as formally. "Do you need to record this?"

"Yes, if I may," Chloe said, pulling out her small voice recorder. She turned it on. "If you're ready?"

"Go ahead," Mary said.

"Well, then, Mrs. Daugherty, can you explain for the record how you discovered the problem at Belle Reve and…" Chloe began her questioning.

Clark remained mostly silent throughout the interview, interjecting questions now and then to satisfy his own curiosity, or to make a point that he thought Chloe had missed. There were few instances of the latter. Chloe was definitely the brains of their outfit.

Chloe was well into the conclusion of the interview when she suddenly shivered. "Mrs. Daugherty, can you excuse me for a moment?" she asked, switching off the recorder. "I've got to powder my nose." She gave Clark a significant glance; unseen by Mary, she made a "come-along" gesture.

"Um, I'd better go too," Clark said, unfolding himself from the hospital chair.

They got out into the hallway and out of Mary's earshot. Chloe turned to Clark and hissed quietly, "It's Mike! He's here!"


	46. Back At The SMC

They got out into the hallway and out of Mary's earshot. Chloe turned to Clark and hissed quietly, "It's Mike! He's here!"

"What?" Clark said, surprised.

"He's 'knocking at the door', and I'm going to let him in," Chloe said.

Clark hurriedly switched vision perception and caught Mike's aura in the midst of the ever-unusual embodiment.

"Mike! Are you and Rachel OK?" Chloe asked.

Mike took control of her body and looked around the hallway. "We're fine, Chloe," he said. "Hi, Clark."

"Hello," Clark said.

"What's been happening?" Chloe demanded in a sharp tone.

"We got to Metropolis, and made contact with James' law firm. They have us in, I guess you'd call it, a safe house, and they say we're going to go to Star City tomorrow. I wanted to see you before we left. Rachel is fine."

"I'm glad to hear that," Clark said, and he was. Despite her shyness, Rachel had impressed him as a smart and game kid, sort of a mini-Chloe, really. Maybe that was why he liked Rachel so much.

"Mike," Chloe said. "I need you to look at Perdita again. She isn't better. Maybe you can think of something else to do?"

"Darn it," Mike said. "I really thought that I did something."

As ever, Clark was struck by the essential weirdness of Chloe speaking both sides of the conversation. Clark casually moved a few steps, and turned his body to shield Chloe from a passing aide.

"OK, I'm willing," Mike said. He seemed much more at ease now. _I guess getting out of prison will do that to you, _Clark thought.

"We've got to get Mary away from there," Chloe said. "We're doing an interview. I can't suddenly be quiet for fifteen minutes after all the talking I've been doing." She grinned. "I mean, we could call it meditation or a prayer service, but right now? She'd definitely know something was up."

"I'll take her for coffee," Clark suggested. "Um, you don't need me, I hope?" God, he hoped not. After the disaster of their last experience together, he wanted to stay well away from the astral projection work.

"I don't think so," Mike said. As before, Clark could tell whether it was Chloe or Mike speaking. They were different people who happened to be in the same body, and that was that. "How about, if I need you, Chloe or I will come to get you?"

"Physically or astrally?" Clark asked. Yes, his life was weird. The fact that he could ask questions like this in all seriousness proved its weirdness.

"Whichever seems easier," Mike said. "Keep an eye out for us."

"OK. Chloe, you finish up the interview," Clark said. "Then I'll suggest taking her to the cafeteria for coffee."

They re-entered the room, catching Mary stroking her daughter's hand. Mary gently laid the hand back on the coverlet.

"Just a little bit more now, Mary," Chloe said, flipping on her recorder once again. She'd been asked by Mary to go to first names about fifteen minutes into the interview. True to her promise, Chloe asked a few perfunctory questions, then turned off her recorder. "Thank you. I can assure you that a story in the _Daily Planet _will be forthcoming."

"That's all I ask," Mary said, almost sadly.

"Um, Mary, I'd like some coffee. Can I get you to show me the way to the cafeteria?" Clark asked.

"OK, Clark," Mary said. Obviously, staring at her daughter's motionless form with company was no better than staring alone. She got up, and Clark arose as well. "Chloe?" Mary asked.

"If you don't mind, Mrs. D., I'll sit here a minute longer organizing my notes," Chloe said. Behind Mary, Clark gave Chloe an approving nod.

"Well, Clark, the cafeteria is at the extreme other end of the building," Mary began as they walked out the door. "It's hard to get coffee sometimes late at night…"

* * *

Chloe turned her attention back to Perdita's motionless form. _"What do you think?" _she wordlessly asked Mike.

No answer at first. She felt Mike gather his astral form and partially leave her body – Chloe was getting much better at recognizing things like that.

_"I don't know, Chloe," _Mike said. _"You know how I said that she wasn't connected last time?" _

_"Yes?" _

_"Well, she seems more connected, but she's still just not right. I just feel that we're close here. I can just sense it." _Chloe could hear the abstraction in the man's mental voice.

_"I'll tell you what. Let's go in one more time," _Mike suggested.

Chloe swallowed. The last time hadn't gone all that well. But, Mary had given her the interview…

_"OK," _Chloe whispered. And with that, Mike reached for her, helped her out of her body. The two of them approached Perdita. Mike dove in.

* * *

Clark faced Mary across the cafeteria table, each holding a steaming cup of coffee. Mary seemed lost in reverie, her eyes unfocused.

"Um, thanks for the interview, Mrs. Daugherty," Clark said diffidently.

"You're welcome," Mary replied distantly. Then she gathered herself and spoke directly to Clark. "And thank you for contacting Chloe. I think it's important to get this in the newspaper." She sighed.

Clark looked at her more closely, noting Mary's slumped shoulders and worn face. "What's going to happen to you?" he demanded, surprising even himself.

Mary cast him a sharp look, then glanced away. "I spoke with the judges here," she said quietly. "I told them about the records…about what I did." Her hands took a pile of sweetener packets from the dispenser at the table. Nervously, she arranged the pink packets so that they all faced the same direction, then shuffled them nervously between her palms. "They're going to let me resign." She folded one packet in half, trapping the granular sweetener in one side. "I'm not sure what charges, if any, I'll be facing. They would prefer to avoid a scandal as much as possible."

"Oh," Clark said. It made sense.

"My husband still has his job," Mary said, apparently in a confessional mode. "But he's been told he has a performance review this Friday, and I expect him to be fired then." Her voice became even quieter.

"I'm sorry," Clark said lamely. He definitely didn't want to bring up the insurance thing now.

"Thank you, Clark," Mary replied. She stopped fiddling with the sweetener packets and squared her shoulders. "I'm not sorry I did it."

Clark gave her a questioning glance.

Mary met his eyes this time. "It was the right thing to do, to stop lying and tell you," she said firmly. "And if I have to pay the penalty for my sins, well, that's just how it is." She raised her eyebrows and leaned closer. "Clark, do you have a strong faith?"

"Well, um…" Clark said, nonplussed.

"Never mind. You don't need to answer," Mary said. "Clark, I thought I did. But then this tragedy happened with Perdita, and I found I really didn't at all." She swallowed. "I did wrong things…." She began fiddling with the sweetener packets again. "But when you get right down to it, really, what I have to do is put my faith in the Lord. 'Let go and let God.' And trust that things will work out." She leaned back, took a sip of her coffee. "So that's what I'm doing. I'm going to do what I can do, right things as much as possible, and leave the rest to God."

Clark sat in silence for a moment. He wondered if he could do the same. His tendency was to do more, try everything. Clark thought back to when his father had been ill. The hardest thing about his father's illness was realizing that, for all Clark's Kryptonian abilities, he was unable to restore his father's health. Familiar guilt overcame him; Clark knew in his heart that when Jonathan Kent assumed super-powers to bring Clark home from the Red-K bender in Metropolis, those powers had taken Jonathan's life force, burning up years in minutes.

So, over the years, Clark had brooded, dithered, moped, wondered. He looked at Mary in new respect. A middle-aged woman, facing the destruction of her hopes and dreams, life turned upside down. Would Clark have had the faith to accept things, to throw himself off a cliff not knowing if he would be caught but trusting it would be so? Mary seemed at peace with her decision. Was Clark?

He thought of another thing. Clark spent so much time keeping his secret, telling lies, not trusting anyone fully. Maybe that prevented him from taking leaps into the unknown. But now Kal had thrown him off the cliff, saying things that Clark felt but was too shy to say. Could this be a good thing in the end?

Clark realized with a start how much he needed Chloe. Besides his mother, and long-absent Pete, she was the only one who knew who he really was. She had trusted him. Kal had shaken that trust. He only hoped he could regain it.

"You've given me a lot to think about," Clark said quietly. They both took a sip of coffee, sharing the moment. Mary nodded, and the two finished their coffee silently.

* * *

"_I see it!"_Mike announced with a note of triumph. _"It's right here! Do you see it?" _He indicated a point in Perdita's aura.

_"I couldn't before and I can't now," _Chloe replied exasperatedly. It seemed that only Mike could perceive whatever it was.

_"We've just got to make one little adjustment…right here…" _Mike said, wordlessly directing Chloe to a part of Perdita's aura. Mike did…_something_… and, suddenly, with an almost audible _click _that even Chloe could sense, Perdita's aura snapped back into position.

Mike pulled them out of Perdita's body. Chloe stared in awe as Perdita's aura, once a dull gray, slowly changed into a bluish gray.

_"That's that bit that I did just at the end last time," _Mike said to Chloe. _"We must have got it wrong then." _

Chloe remembered it too – hastily throwing the last of Perdita's aura to Mike so that Chloe could grab on to Clark and keep him from "going away". Had Mike needed Chloe to get things correct then, and she wasn't there to help? Maybe that was why Perdita hadn't improved – maybe the whole thing had to be right.

"_Are you sure she's all right?" _Chloe asked Mike. _"Her aura seems to…fit better – even I can tell that. But it still doesn't seem as swirly as yours or mine. _Chloe frowned. _"And I'm not getting a __**sense**__ of her, like I did with you."_

"_I don't know, Chloe," _Mike replied. _"This is all new to me too."_

Chloe stared at Perdita, seemingly half cured. Chloe just knew, somehow had a feeling, that there was more they could do. It was like Perdita waited for them on the other side of a window, and all they had to do was find a rock to break the glass.

Chloe took a deep breath. _"We've got to get Clark back here," _she told Mike.

"_Clark? Why?"_Mike replied.

"_I…I can't say. I've just got a feeling. It just seems right to have Clark here. We can't leave Perdita like this till we've tried everything." _Chloe shivered a bit. The last episode with Clark had blown up her careful world and the two of them were still picking up the pieces. But Chloe couldn't leave Perdita. Now she knew how Clark felt when he had the opportunity to save someone – if you knew you had the power, you had to use it. Or at least Chloe Sullivan did. She couldn't walk away now, not and live with herself.

Mike must have sensed her resolve. _Hopefully he's not picking up the undercurrent of apprehension, _Chloe thought.

"_OK, let's get Clark in here." _Momentary uncertainty from Mike. _"Do you want to wait for him to come back, or do you want to get him?" _

"_I'll get him," _Chloe responded. This was probably the last time she'd see Mike, at least for awhile, and she wanted, one more time, to taste the strange freedom of flying free, not tethered to her earthbound clay.

"_OK, then, if you let go, I'll 'throw' you out for a good start." _Mike seemed agreeable.

* * *

Clark sat silently at the table with Mary Daugherty, pondering their situation. Suddenly a twinge alerted him to Chloe's presence. He quickly switched to Aura-sight and recognized the bluish tones and the ever-changing swirls that made her uniquely Chloe.

"I think we should get back to Perdita's room now," Clark suggested. He kept an eye on Chloe's aura. At his words, a vaguely head-shaped projection nodded. Clark felt slightly relieved that he seemed to have figured out what Chloe wanted without her having to 'contact' him more intimately. Like Chloe, he feared what might happen should they join again.

"Yes, Clark, that's probably a good idea," Mary said dully. Then she perked up a bit and said, "Why don't you go up alone while I powder my nose? I'll meet you up there."

_Good idea, _Clark thought. "OK, Mrs. D.," he said.

As they got up from the table, Clark said, "I hope everything works out for the best, Mrs. Daugherty." He hoped she could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"Thanks, Clark," Mary replied. She said almost shyly, "You know, it's tough having faith all the time. I keep on having to work at it."

"Um, I can sort of sympathize," Clark said. "My life feels like a work in progress all the time." He gave Mary a small smile. "I'll meet you back in the room."

Mary stepped away, headed for the ladies'. Clark cast a wary eye at the semi-crowded cafeteria, and thought of the video surveillance throughout the SMC hallways. He decided against super-speeding back to Perdita's room, but appeased his sense of urgency by walking just a bit faster than a regular human could. To all witnesses, he would appear to be someone in a hurry.

He got back to Perdita's room and, knowing that Mike was present, scanned with Aura-Vision. Mike was there, anchored to Chloe's body, as was Chloe herself, apparently none the worse for wear for her trip to the Smallville Medical Center cafeteria to fetch Clark.

Clark looked over at Perdita and raised his eyebrows. "She looks different," Clark said.

"I know," Chloe replied. Mike let her do the talking. "Clark, she's still not right, though. You can see it, can't you?"

Clark frowned. "I can. She's better, somehow, whatever it was that you did, but she's still not….there."

Chloe took a deep breath. "Clark, I just have this feeling. We have to get together, the three of us again, and try to, try to, I don't know, _find _her. I can feel it. Perdita's there. Somehow we just have to get her out."

"A feeling?" Clark repeated.

"Yeah, a feeling," Chloe retorted. "Don't tell me you have hunches sometime." She softened her tone. "Clark, I don't know why. But something is telling me we have to try."

Clark looked at her. Chloe returned a steady gaze, but Clark could sense her trembling just a bit. The whole Kal debacle passed between them in one glance. This had the potential to be horribly embarrassing at best, and psychologically devastating at worst. He opened his mouth to refuse.

Then Clark thought of Mary, her leap of faith. Was that a sign to him? He looked at Chloe's eager eyes, and felt ashamed. How could he turn down someone in need? How many people had helped his parents during his father's illness? Had he ever thanked all of them? Clark straightened; he could live with embarrassment if he had to. Chloe and he could talk it out later. But there was no later for Perdita, unless Chloe was right.

"OK," Clark said, shrugging his shoulders.

"OK?" Chloe parroted, surprised at his quick acquiescence.

"OK. And Mary's coming back soon, so we should get right on it," Clark said.

"Well." Chloe nodded her head. "Let's get right on it, then."


	47. Entering The Labyrinth

"Well." Chloe nodded her head. "Let's get right on it, then."

She and Clark sat down on chairs near the end of the bed, close to each other but not holding hands. Clark switched to Aura-Vision, in time to see Mike come boiling out of Chloe's body, pulling Chloe along with him, headed towards Clark.

He felt the weird sensation once more of arising, flying; he looked down to see his physical form slumped in the chair. Chloe in her astral form held him. As before, Clark could sense Mike but could not touch him directly.

"_Let's go to Perdita, and then you just do what seems right," _Chloe told him.

OK, why not? This whole thing was crazy even by Smallville standards. Clark nodded his head, choosing to go along. He wished he had Mary's faith so he could pray for guidance. For a moment, he felt adrift in a manner not related to his astral travel.

They approached Perdita's body. Mike retained a lifeline to Chloe's body. Chloe floated free, connected to Mike with one hand, and Clark with the other. With a metaphorical deep breath, Clark dove in to Perdita's body.

The expected binding threads did not materialize; Clark did not become tied to Perdita's body. Judging by Chloe's expression, she didn't either. Of course, Chloe wasn't entering the body totally, unlike Clark. And their experience in body-jumping was limited, Clark thought sourly.

"_What do you see?" _ Chloe asked him.

With those words, a perception shift occurred. Clark suddenly found himself standing on a treeless, rocky landscape, mountainous and jagged. Gray skies overhead denied the possibility of bright sunlight. A few straggling blades of grass tried to grow in the hardpan soil, but their dim and lifeless color testified to their inherent lack of vitality. Chloe stood next to him, but her form was wavering and thin, indicating her half-in, half-out status as the mediator between Clark and the outside.

Ahead of Clark was a mountain; large boulders outlined an entrance into its mysterious depths. The sallow gray light above penetrated only a few meters into the adit.

"_Chloe, do you see that?" _Clark asked her.

"_Whatever it is you're seeing, no," _she replied.

"_It's an entrance to an underground place," _Clark said absently, engaged in climbing over the jagged rocks to get close to the entrance. _"Like a mine or something. It looks like a maze inside." _

He felt Chloe's excitement. _"Clark, she's in there somewhere, I know. All you have to do is go in there and bring her out."_ Chloe assumed a more analytical tone. _"This is very Freudian. Whatever is going on with Perdita, your mind is interpreting it as what you're seeing now." _She gave a dry chuckle. _"Truly a case where perception is reality."_

Clark swallowed. He ignored what Chloe said about his mind's interpretation of Perdita's damaged soul. Going into the dark underground? _"There's no light – "_

"_That's why you're the only one who can do this, Clark," _Chloe said reassuringly. Knowing Mike was "in the loop", and bound by her vow to keep Clark's secret, Chloe would not say more. But she knew that Clark got her meaning. He didn't need visible light to see. _"I know you can find her." _

Clark squared his shoulders again. _ "This reminds me of the tale of the Minotaur and the labyrinth."_

"_Extra literature points!" _Chloe gently mocked him. _"At least you're not seeing it from the Dantean perspective."_

"_Dantean?"_

"_You know. Dante's 'Interno'? The entrance to the underworld – 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here'?" _Chloe gave a tiny laugh. _"At least you're only seeing it as the maze." _She gave a satisfied snort. _"Clark, do you remember how Theseus made it out of the Labyrinth?"_

"_Ariadne gave him a magic thread to follow – " _Clark broke off. _"But how?"_

Chloe lifted her head and looked at him. Their eyes met and Clark took a step back. Her gaze dropped. Then she took a deep breath and nodded.

Chloe took her hand from his, but a shimmering thread of blue remained where her hand had been. The blue thread, containing the swirls of Chloe's aura in miniature, wrapped around Clark's wrist, and knotted around his own red aura. Somehow Clark had no trouble in seeing himself and Chloe, simultaneously as their physical forms and their auras.

"_I think the thread thing is going to be OK,"_ she said. _"One metaphysical ball of twine coming right up." _

Clark smiled weakly, and slowly lowered his eyes to his wrist. The thread of blue around his right wrist comforted him, told him he could not get lost as long as it held. He felt Chloe's embarrassment and reluctance, but stronger than those were her courage, her sense of duty, her determination to help. _I have a piece of her soul, C_lark realized, almost in surprise.

Somehow, without knowing how, Clark extended a tendril of his own red aura, and sent it along the blue thread, back to Chloe. She gasped as the red encircled her wrist. Clark wondered if Chloe felt his trepidation, his respect for her, his confidence in her. He hoped so. They glanced at each other, neither wanting to say anything. He shuddered; the mingling was the most intimate thing Clark had ever done. They shared a glance; at that moment, crazy exultation bloomed in Clark. _I am forgiven, _he thought.

"_Go, Clark,"_she said softly.

"_Well, then,"_Clark said. He turned his back on Chloe and walked toward the entrance to the mountain. _"Don't let go."_

"_I won't,"_Chloe promised. _"Clark?" _she asked.

"_What?" _he replied, turning around.

"_If you're seeing this as the Labyrinth, then maybe Perdita can't get out because something is preventing her."_

"_What, you mean there's a Minotaur in there?"_ Clark replied.

"_I don't know, Clark, but in all the legends there's something that you have to overcome to get out."  
_

Clark shrugged his shoulders, gave a rueful smile. _"You know, somehow I kind of figured that."_

"_I'll say it again, Clark. You're the only one who can save Perdita." _Emotion gave weight to Chloe's words.

Clark nodded. He looked again at the soul-cord connecting them, then caught Chloe's eyes. _"Don't let go," _he said again. She nodded. Clark turned away from Chloe and entered the dark passage.

* * *

Mary came back in the hospital room, saw Clark and Chloe holding hands near Perdita's bed. 

"I've got some extra coffee here, if you want it, Chloe," Mary offered.

Chloe looked up and Mary gasped. Chloe looked _different. _Then Chloe smiled and Mary chided herself. Chloe was probably just under a lot of stress; anyone would look a little worn under stress.

"Thank you, Mrs. Daugherty," Chloe murmured, taking the proffered cup with one hand. The other hand stayed clamped around Clark's fingers.

"Do you think Clark would like another cup, too?" Mary babbled.

At her words, Clark lifted up his head and gazed at Mary. "I'm fine," he muttered.

Mary thought about rubbing her eyes. Clark looked different too. And he seemed so distant right now, not the usual courteous and friendly Kent boy that she knew so well.

Then Clark gave her a charming Kent smile and asked, "Could you tell us about Perdita's childhood, give us some background?"

Mary relaxed. "Well, she was always an adventurous little kid," she began. She kept her eye on Clark and didn't notice the relieved expression on Chloe's face.


	48. In The Darkness

As befit his mental image, the cave entrance narrowed down into a tight passageway, the rough rocks on either side giving Clark a hint of claustrophobia. A dry, bitter scent filled the air. Within a few paces, the passageway turned, cutting off the small amount of gray light that filtered in from the entrance. Clark looked ahead; only darkness could be seen.

He sighed and looked down at the cord on his left wrist; the mingled red and blue gave a slight glimmer. Clark could feel Chloe on the other end, her outward concern buttressed by a solid foundation of confidence. Clark wished he had the bone-deep faith in himself that Chloe seemed to have.

Clark looked back at the entrance, then at the winding passage in darkness ahead. He took a deep breath and made the mental adjustment to see in a different spectrum. The pathway leapt into the false-colors that his brain used to report the results of x-ray vision.

Clark advanced slowly, keeping his right hand upon the gritty rock of the passageway. Ahead of him, a fork in the path – which way to take? Mentally flipping a coin, Clark took the right-hand branch. He walked forward until the passage dead-ended into a rock wall. Clark stared through the rock with the maximum power of his x-ray vision, but saw no other passageway through it. This branch of the path dead-ended into the mountain, apparently.

Clark kept his right hand upon the wall, having read once that was one way to get out of a maze – keep your hand on one wall and keep on walking. He didn't know if it would apply here, but it was the only idea he had. Shrugging, he turned around and walked back to the fork, this time taking the left-hand branch.

And so it went for an undetermined length of time. Clark traced his way through what seemed like innumerable pathways, most terminating in cul-de-sacs, forcing him to retrace his footsteps. He realized the truth of Chloe's statement that only he could do this. No human would have been able to see in the visible-light-deprived Tartarus that was this maze. No human would have been able to remember the proper paths through the twists and turnings.

Clark counted three things on the positive side. The floor remained even, with no rocks to trip him, no changing levels, no chimneys to squeeze through or ladders to climb. And the ceiling of the passage, although low for Clark (he'd brushed his head against it a few times) allowed him to walk through without bending or crawling.

The third thing was Chloe. Through all Clark's twists and turns through the maze, the soul-line had held steady. Although Clark tried to keep the line in the center of the passageway, on the opposite side of the wall he held his hand against, there were a few times when the line scraped against the opposite rock wall, where the passage narrowed. It always held; it never broke. And Clark could sense Chloe on the other end of the line, sense her indomitable spirit and optimism. As Clark grew anesthetized by the sameness of the passages, the seemingly never-ending walk through a dark, rocky maze, Chloe kept him alert. He wondered if she could feel his dull grayness, his frustration right now - probably so.

Clark came to another widening of the passage. This time, three forks branched off into the distance. As ever, Clark tried x-raying through the rock; as had happened before, the x-raying was not helpful, each branch going farther than he could see. Clark stood at the central point, resting for just a moment, resigned to trying each passage.

Then he pricked up his ears, metaphorically, turning his head to gather more of whatever sound it was that had alerted him. Clark stayed still, silent, straining for every sound. Then he relaxed as the eerie silence of the underground realm fell anew. He remained standing. His reward was the faintest scent of "Perdita-ness". Somehow Clark recognized her essence; or maybe it was just because it was something different from the deathlike sterility of the maze.

Clark carefully stepped up to each passage in turn and listened, smelled, tasted the air. After what seemed a long time, he set off in the center corridor. As he proceeded down the rocky gray maze, the scent grew stronger. Clark moved faster, knowing he was on the right path.

A slight cracking noise was his only warning. Amidst a cloud of dust, the ceiling collapsed on him. Large boulders pounded him to the ground, medium-sized rocks hit his head and body, while a final dusting of pebbles capped off the rockfall.

Clark lay still just a moment, once again thinking of Chloe's statement. A human would have been crushed, or, if he or she had miraculously avoided serious injury, been asphyxiated by the dust still falling. Clark, though, just made some room by digging away what he could with his hands. Once there was a little space, he pushed with arms and legs, allowing him to get a good grip on the larger rocks. The narrow passage echoed as rocks bounced off the walls, flew forward and backward.

Clark got up and dusted himself off. Great. Now he had rock dust in his shirt. It wasn't damaging as much as it was irritating and uncomfortable. Clark glanced up at the ceiling. As he halfway expected in this strange inner world, the rockfall hadn't made much difference. The roof of the passage was just a little higher than before, despite the sheer quantity of rock that littered the passageway. He moved a few more rocks, making a pathway for an easy exit.

He shrugged, took off his shirt, flapped it around a bit to knock out some of the dust. Clark carefully untied the soul-cord from around his left wrist while he did this, then carefully re-tied it after he re-donned his shirt. Tugging once again on the cord for luck, he set off down the path.

His ears and nose gave him the knowledge of the next obstacle. A low rumbling grew greater, turning into roaring and plashing. Moisture invaded the dry air, bringing Perdita's scent more clearly. The path ended at the bank of a river, whitewater rapids telling the story of the fierce current. Clark stuck his hand in, looked down into its depths. Hmm. Deep.

Clark eyed the opposite bank and did some mental calculating. Too far to jump with the ceiling as low as it was. Any jump of his, no matter how shallow he tried to make it, would have at least a bit of a parabola in it. And he was all too likely to crack his head against the rocky ceiling at the apex of the parabola. Not that this would hurt him; but it would probably knock him into the river. And Clark had a strong feeling that this river was to be crossed, and that he should not be swept down with the current.

Clark stared in perplexity at the river. He couldn't jump. The current would sweep him away if he tried to swim. He couldn't walk on water – wait a minute.

Smiling, he sped back the short distance to the rockfall. Picking up one of the largest boulders, he brought it to the river, threw it in. The crash of the giant stone sent spray rocketing through both sides of the passage. The rapids foamed at the boulder a moment, almost covering it. Then, sullenly, they separated, flowed around the rock. Clark nodded.

He spent the next few minutes racing back and forth from the rockfall to the river, taking boulders and throwing them to form a series of stepping-stones across the racing waters. They formed an irregular path. Clark stared at them, their rough surfaces. He grimaced and used his heat vision to laser off the top of the first stone. He jumped to the stone, then heat-visioned the next stone as well. Clark reached the other side of the river and looked back at the stones. A neat trail of smooth stepping stones formed a very nice path across the river. A child could cross the river using this trail.

Clark sat down for a moment on the other side. Weariness slowed him. It seemed as if he'd been trapped in this dark, lifeless spot forever. He wanted to see real colors, not scurry around in the dark like some kind of rat. He wanted to get out of the twisting rocky paths. He wanted to see flowers, greenery, growing things. The dark, sterile sameness of the paths deadened his soul.

Clark knew the sun rejuvenated him, healed him, energized him. Now the darkness was taking its toll. His hand strayed to the soul-cord. The blue in it throbbed. Clark grabbed onto the cord with both hands, sending a wordless plea. As he held on, the sense of Chloe became stronger; it was if he could see her, holding her hand out to him, telling him to go on. Strength flowed back into him. Clark got up and began walking.

He passed through more of the gray paths. A quick inhalation as he moved into a wide open area – then rapid breaths as a sheet of fire descended upon him.

_What's it burning? _Clark thought. There was nothing down here to burn. Then the advancing fire chased that thought out of his mind. Clark felt the heat on his skin and suddenly, with a deep chill, realized that this fire could hurt him. His red jacket singed; the burning-cotton smell of it competed with the strange scent of the fuel-less fire.

Standing his ground, Clark took a deep breath, and coughed as the hot air entered his lungs. He covered his mouth with his hand, inhaled deeply again. Then, using all the power he'd recently discovered he had, he exhaled with all his might. The fire wavered, drew back.

Clark inhaled again, repeated his exhale. The fire guttered, gave one last despairing glimmer, and went out. Clark sighed in relief. He advanced slowly, frowning; the eldritch flames left no soot on the walls, no sign it had ever been there. With greater confidence, Clark moved forward.

He kept a wary eye as he walked onward. In one way, he felt, the trials he'd passed were a good thing; they let him know he was probably on the right road. He spared a moment to wonder if they were Perdita's unconscious defense mechanisms? Or were they Clark's visualization of Perdita's brain damage, just as this whole rocky maze was his visualization of her soul, in a way. Whichever, he'd passed those tests.

Clark wondered what would come next. _Let's see – earth, water, fire. What'll you bet the next is air? What are the odds?_

And his hunch was confirmed by the Kansas-style twister that caught him, bore him up, slammed him against the rocky ceiling, tumbled him every which way. His red jacket, already weakened by the fire, tore apart under the fierce pummeling of the wind.

Clark flashed back to when he'd saved Lana from the tornado, years ago. He'd grown since then, acquired new powers, had become more expert in using his abilities. Right now he couldn't hold on to anything; he winds tumbled him back along the passage, making him lose meters of hard-fought progress. He tried to slam a holding spot in the rock wall; the wind pushed him back too quickly. Roaring noise filled his ears.

Clark didn't panic. _I've been in worse situations before, _he thought. The unbroken soul-cord on his wrist, glowing, gave him confidence. And thinking quickly, Clark activated his heat vision. He had to momentarily relinquish the x-ray ability to do so, but that was no loss; rock dust blinded him anyway.

The twin beams cut a path through the whirling debris. Clark pushed more power into his vision. The air heated and rose; the spiraling stopped. With a dramatic suddenness, the twister, bereft of its power, collapsed into a few tiny dust devils. Clark fell down from the ceiling, landing heavily on the rocky floor.

Danm. He'd felt that. He lifted his shirt and noticed bruising beginning. Clark frowned again; he was definitely losing his abilities as he spent more time here in the dark. He pulled down his shirt and jogged down the path, making up the distance he'd lost.

The "scent" he'd gotten was becoming clearer. Perdita couldn't be far away now. Clark checked one more time to see that the soul-cord remained intact. He didn't really need to check, he realized; he could feel it. But it was reassuring, seeing the tiny glow.

Clark went from a jog to a run. Only one pathway left, no more maze blind ends. He sped down the gray path, and then skidded to a stop in a open clearing. He could hear whimpering. He looked ahead; a forest of tall boulders, uncomfortably resembling sharp teeth, formed a circle in the center of the clearing. Clark could catch glimpses of a young girl between the rocks; she sat crouched, quietly crying.

"Perdita!" he called out. "Perdita! I'm here to help you!" The crying stopped. He stepped into the clearing.

Then a truck hit him.

Clark was thrown back into the passageway. He picked himself up, his head ringing. He looked again; it wasn't a truck that hit him. _Of course. I should have realized there would be a dragon. How did I miss that before? I was just looking for Perdita and I didn't check the perimeter, _he thought, mentally kicking himself for his inattention. _What now? _

A dragon. Of course. It just had to be. There was always some sort of monster in the maze. Clark couldn't believe that his mind would stoop to this sort of cliché. But there really was a dragon here, in the seamy underbelly of Perdita's psyche. And right now, it was looking at him with a very speculative expression. The kind that Lionel Luthor got when he was picking out which lobster he wanted for dinner.


	49. Clark Vs The Dragon

Clark scrambled backward just in time. The dragon breathed out fire that lapped at Clark's heels. _Well, I'm glad to see that we're living up to tradition here, _Clark thought sourly. He put his hand to his head; it came away red with his blood. Clark stared at it in dismay. He was definitely weakening. That let out just going up and dealing with the dragon physically.

He looked back warily at the dragon. It seemed to be confined to the clearing, or maybe it just was too big to enter the passageway. Clark moved back a good distance anyway, and sat back on his heels, thinking.

What could he do about dragons? He racked his brain thinking of old dragon stories, fairy tales, folklore. This didn't seem to be the benevolent Chinese dragon; this was a Western dragon, full of fire and apparently in a bad mood.

Well, he wasn't Saint George, and he didn't have a sword. He didn't know how to use a sword anyway; he wasn't Lex, who had fencing lessons as part of his gentlemanly education. Although Clark figured a dragon this size would need a broadsword. Or some large, sharp piece of steel. He spent a moment thinking about all the famous swords in history and literature. _Durandal?_ _Excalibur?_ _Or maybe Aragorn's sword Anduril from "The Lord of the Rings"._ That sparked a line of thought. _Let's see. In "The Hobbit", the dragon Smaug got shot by an archer. Well, I don't have a bow and arrow either. _

In Greek mythology, didn't Medea put the dragon down with some sort of magical potion? No good – he was potion-less. And didn't Hermes or some other god lull some monster to sleep using some sort of musical instrument? In his desperation, Clark actually checked himself to make sure that he hadn't somehow acquired a flute or a lyre. Then he snorted, realizing he wouldn't know how to play anyway.

And wasn't there a dragon in the _Nibelungenlied_? Fasolt, was it, or Fafnir? For a moment, Clark cursed his disinclination to listen to Germanic opera; his mother had certainly played it enough, but Clark had never really liked Wagner all that much. Unfortunately, he didn't know how Siegfried (or Roy or whoever) had dealt with the dragon. There probably was a sword involved somewhere. But again, he didn't have a sword. _Stop this. Get swords off the brain. You don't have one. _

He sat for what seemed a long time, considering his options. It looked like heat vision was his only choice. Could he decapitate it? He felt a little queasy about that. What if the dragon was the manifestation of some psychological defense mechanism of Perdita's? Would "killing" it damage Perdita in some way?

Despondency overtook him. Clark was tired, bruised, burned, wet, sore, and singed. The sheer grayness of his surroundings drained him of vitality. He'd already done so much – wasn't it enough? How was he supposed to get past the dragon when he had nothing? Maybe he should get out while he still was able. He probably couldn't do much for Perdita anyway.

Then he felt Chloe through the cord, felt her determination and fire. What could he say to her? _"Chloe, I made it almost all the way but I couldn't do it in the end because I was tired? Or maybe a little afraid? So I turned around and went home. Sorry." _

He looked once again at the small figure crouched behind the toothlike rocks. Was the dragon initially a defense? And now, had Perdita's defenses turned into a prison? The figure gave another plaintive whimper, and with that, Clark made his decision.

He stepped out from the tunnel. The dragon turned its head toward Clark, and Clark dropped into super-speed. Or rather, he tried to, but he grimaced in dismay as he realized his speed was seriously diminished. The dragon seemed to have no trouble following him with its gaze.

Clark ran with all his might to the ring of rocks, not looking at the dragon. He heard a soft "whoosh" and suddenly cried out in pain. The dragon had flamed him. He took a fraction of a second to assess himself. The red jacket was definitely toast now. And his exposed skin had a faint redness. The good news was that his aura of invulnerability had protected him; the bad news was that it hadn't protected him enough.

The sense of "Chloe-contact" lessened. Clark looked down at the soul-cord tied around his wrist and blanched. It was fraying, thinning. Clark desperately pumped some of his energy into it as he reached the outskirts of the rock ring.

The dragon spat another breath of fire at him; Clark dodged at the last minute and barely avoided it. He could feel the heat in it; if he'd been caught, he would have been well-done for sure.

"No time like the present," Clark muttered. The attenuation of Chloe's contact made him weaker faster; he could feel his strength draining out. He moved a short distance away. Carefully judging the distance to the ceiling (there was enough room here), he flexed his legs and jumped. His prodigious leap carried him over the ring of sharp rocks. He landed in the center of the ring, facing a young girl.

She looked like the still form of Perdita that Clark had seen in the hospital bed. But this figure looked younger and more worn, pale and thin. The Perdita in the hospital bed hadn't made any noise, unlike the quiet whimpering Clark heard now. Also, the figure in the bed had a vacant expression; this girl's face now showed a gradually increasing interest and animation.

She stopped crying, but still stayed crouched down. "How'd you do that?" she asked wonderingly.

"I've come to get you out of here," Clark said, avoiding the question. He looked warily at the dragon, now patrolling right outside the rock ring. It didn't seem to be sending fire at Clark now – maybe because it would hurt Perdita? This seemed to be a safe place. But it was a false sense of security.

Clark continued. "Come on, we don't have much time." _That _was the truth – Clark could feel his strength draining every minute. He looked down at his wrist. Barely restrained panic flowed through him as he realized the cord was almost frayed through.

Perdita stared at him for a few moments. Clark marshaled his arguments, trying to decide the best way to convince her.

She surprised him. "OK," Perdita said.

"OK," he repeated gratefully. "Here. Let me just hold you this way…" Clark picked her up and adjusted himself to her weight. Not much when he was himself, but now he could feel the effort needed. "Ready?" Clark turned to her.

"Ready," Perdita replied.

Clark looked at the dragon, who stared steadily back at him. Clark took a deep breath. Then he flexed again, jumped back over the ring of rocks. A smaller jump this time, barely clearing the top of the rock ring. Clark breathed a careful sigh of relief when they landed safely. He set Perdita down, and they began walking to the tunnel exit. "Are you OK?" he asked Perdita.

He didn't hear Perdita's reply. The dragon backed away from Clark and Perdita, apparently unwilling to hurt her. Clark edged slowly toward the exit, trying to avoid sudden motions. The dragon kept pace with them, its golden eyes staring closely, assessing the situation. Then, with almost a malign intelligence in its eyes, it breathed a tiny plume of flame. Not at him, not at Perdita. Instead, the flame delicately danced around the soul-cord, embracing it, glowing brightly for just a moment, right before it severed the cord.

* * *

Mary sat in the hospital room, caught up in a flow of reminiscence. Her two companions were mostly silent now, very different from the vibrant Chloe who'd drawn out her story with numerous probing and incisive questions, and the solid Clark who'd introduced his own queries. _Are they getting tired? _Mary thought. _They **have** been here for awhile now. _The total personality change that had happened in Clark and Chloe since Mary left for coffee was astounding, though, and Mary was beginning to wonder if she should tell them politely in some way that they could leave, they didn't have to stay to keep her company.

"Then there was the time Perdita broke her arm jumping off the swing," she said. Mary drew breath for another sentence, then heard Clark gasp. Looking up, Mary saw that both Clark and Chloe had paled.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mary asked Chloe.

"Um, I'm fine," Chloe replied. But the tense look on her face belied her words.


	50. Easier To Get In Than To Get Out

Clark gasped. Losing contact with Chloe hit Clark like a physical blow. Clark staggered; he hadn't realized how much strength he'd been drawing. Worse than that was the isolation, the loss of warmth he hadn't known he'd needed till it was gone.

The cut end of the soul-cord fell to the pebbly ground and stayed still for just a moment before it began receding.

Absolute panic coursed through Clark. He gaped at the rapidly dimming soul-cord for one precious second. The cord in that time receded to the edge of the cave, and stared heading out the passageway. Speeding, Clark turned around and grabbed Perdita. In the microsecond glimpse he got, he saw the dragon, the rock ring and the surrounding clearing dissolving into a black fog. Ice pierced his heart. If he didn't find the soul-cord, if he couldn't get out in time, Clark knew he and Perdita would be trapped here together, lost in a formless darkness.

He held Perdita tight and sped down the passages, desperately trying to keep the soul-cord in sight. Taunting him, it receded at the limits of his speed. Clark began sweating – unusual for him, but he usually wasn't running for such a long time while holding another person, all at a time when he was already depleted.

He passed the tornado area; an errant breeze tugged at his hair, but he sped by too fast for any damage. He passed through the fire area, and raced to the river. Clark blessed the moment he'd thought to smooth the stepping stones; preparing an escape route now was saving his – no, their – lives.

Clark kept his eye on the receding blue glow of his lifeline, so tantalizingly near and yet just a bit out of reach. He carefully didn't look back. He was willing to bet that the black formlessness was taking over everywhere he'd been. Besides, you weren't supposed to look back when you were exiting the underworld – all the legends said so.

Clark adjusted his grip on Perdita, and crossed the river, jumping carefully from one stone to the next. As he entered the area of the rockfall, he heard the river noise shut off. The pursuing blackness had taken the river. Clark squeezed carefully through the narrowed tunnels of the rockfall, panting more heavily.

His growing tiredness forced him to drop out of super-speed. He gasped, taking in big lungfuls of air. Perdita's skittering heartbeat beat against his chest. The blue glow led him through the maze of passages. He hoped it was leading him truly, because in his exhaustion, he couldn't recall the exact sequence of rights and lefts to get out of the maze.

He saw a tinge of gray light. Hope flared in him. The soul-cord drew further ahead. Clark pushed another ounce of effort from his weary legs. Running for survival focused the mind admirably. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the entrance. Making a final sprint, he raced to the cave adit, and ran out onto the gray plain. The soul-cord led to a standing figure, merged with it, and disappeared.

Clark fell at Chloe's feet, twisting his body so as not to injure Perdita. Clark felt an incredible gratitude. He'd let Chloe go, but she'd led him to safety anyway. He lay panting on the ground, sweating, heart racing.

"Clark!" Chloe said. Tears were in her eyes. "I thought you were dea…lost!" She sat down and hugged him. "I could feel when the cord snapped."

"I thought I was lost too, Chloe," Clark said, rolling to stare up at her. "But you pulled us out." He felt an incredible gratitude.

"You got her? You brought back Perdita?" Chloe said, not really asking. She stared at the small girl, recognized the similarity to the Perdita-in-the-hospital-bed.

At her name, Perdita lifted up her head, stared at Chloe through lanky bangs. "Who are you?" she said.

Chloe swallowed, and said, "There's no time." She stood straighter and yelled, "Mike!"

* * *

Mary was definitely concerned now. For the last minute or so, Chloe and Clark had stopped responding. Even the non-committal "uh-huhs" and "yeses" that had accompanied Mary's reminiscence had trailed away.

It was odd, really. Clark didn't have that strange air of solidity that he usually projected. And Chloe seemed much less articulate, less questioning than Mary had come to expect from the junior reporter. They only sat quietly in their chairs, the casual camaraderie of the last hour now in abeyance. It was like they were different people.

And yet Chloe and Clark seemed so tense. Mary could almost feel the tension thrumming in the room. But what in this quiet room would cause the edgy, fidgety feeling that kept Mary squirming in her chair?

"Are you all right, Chloe?" Mary asked, laying a hand on Chloe's wrist.

No answer. Mary gasped as Chloe's eyes rolled up into her head.

Mary arose from her chair. "Time to get the nurse to look at you," she said firmly.

* * *

There was a confused jumble that Clark could never remember clearly later on. Somehow his perception changed from figures on a plain to auras in the hospital room. Somehow, he felt Mike and Chloe and Perdita and himself all being jostled, sorted, and reattached to physical forms.

Clark shuddered and opened his eyes. He was back in his own body, sitting next to Perdita's hospital bed. "Chloe?" he asked.

"I'm OK, Clark," she assured him. Her hand touched his wrist. A remnant of their connection lingered. Chloe was all right. Clark sighed in relief.

He saw Mary standing by her chair. She looked back at them in concern and confusion. "Are you OK, Chloe? Clark?" she asked.

"Fine," Clark replied. He gave Mary a big smile.

Belatedly he switched to aura-sight. Chloe and Mike shared her body. Clark turned his vision on to the figure in the bed. Happiness slowly rose in him as he saw Perdita's aura as he somehow knew it should be. The blue-gray iridescent swirls told their own story of health and rightness.

Mary followed Clark's gaze to Perdita's form. She stood stock-still as Perdita's limbs moved slowly under the covering sheet. The girl moved her head slightly and groaned. Then her eyes opened.

"Ma…ma…" Perdita mumbled

Mary raced to the bedside. She forgot about her visitors as she gathered her daughter in her arms. "Oh, honey," she said, voice cracking with tears, "you're back. You're back." She held Perdita tightly. Mary said nothing more, only gave a wordless crooning as she rocked back and forth with her daughter, tears running down her face.

"You did it, Clark," Chloe whispered. She could hear Mike's soundless echo inside her.

Clark sighed and slumped back in his chair. "Let's go tell the nurse," he said.

* * *

The nurse came running down the hall at Clark and Chloe's urgent news. Wisely, she made no attempt to separate Perdita from her mother. She only came into the room, saw Perdita moving, eyes open, and making attempts at speech. Then the nurse went back to the station to contact Perdita's doctor.

Clark, Chloe, and Mike stood aside in the hallway, awkwardly out of place amidst the medical personnel who came to Perdita's room. Clark reveled in the feeling of strength he had now that he was back in his body. Whatever bruises and burns he'd acquired in his strange quest, whether or not they'd affected his physical form, were healed now. He looked at Chloe and grinned.

She grinned back in sheer exultation. Then Chloe felt Mike come to the fore, and, in their delicate minuet, relinquished control of the body to him.

"I've got to be going now," Mike said. A note of regret tinged his voice. "I don't know when I'll be able to contact you again."

Clark looked at him, raised an eyebrow.

Mike continued. "We'll be in some sort of witness protection for a year, maybe two. Our lawyer thinks it's best. So I won't be able to write, or call, or e-mail you."

Chloe took over the voice. "But you can come via astral travel, right, Mike?"

Mike shook their head in regret. "No. Rachel and I will be moving to Star City, and that's just too far." The bald statement brought silence in its wake.

Chloe rallied, with the quick acceptance Clark had grown to love in her. "Mike, I'm sorry. We'll miss you here." She smiled. "It's been a weird few days. But I'm glad they worked out the way they did."

Mike smiled back. "Me too." A satisfied tone in his voice. Then, sincerely, he said, "Chloe, thanks for being my host, for putting up with me. It was more…more than I ever expected to deserve."

Chloe raised a hand to her face to wipe away a tiny tear. "I'll miss you, Mike. Thanks for taking me out of my body and showing me such a wonderful way of looking at the world." She gave a trembling half-laugh. "Thank you for taking me flying."

Mike took over again. He smiled. "It was my pleasure." He turned to face Clark, and said, "Clark, you were right."

"Right?" Clark asked.

"This was the right way to use my ability." Mike smiled. "It feels good."

Clark nodded. "I'll tell you what my father told me," he said, remembering Jonathan Kent. "You've got a wonderful ability. Use it to help people." He caught Mike's eye. Mike slowly nodded.

Clark extended his hand; Mike took it. "You did good, Mike," Clark said softly. Mike swallowed.

It was Chloe who gathered the three of them in a hug, three souls in two bodies. They gathered together, joined in the appreciation of a job well done, each one using his or her ability to the utmost.

Then Clark heard Mike murmur softly, "And now is good-bye." Warned, Clark switched to Aura-sight and saw Mike's astral form leave Chloe's body. It hovered above the two of them for a moment, before setting off to places unknown.

Clark felt Chloe tense slightly and he released her from their hug. "Did you see him go?" Chloe asked him. She knew Mike had left her.

"Yes," Clark said softly.

* * *

Mary sat trembling, awash with feelings too complex to categorize. The medical staff bustled around Perdita, but Mary refused to leave her daughter's side. An air of suppressed jubilation filled the room.

Mary looked up to see Clark and Chloe advancing toward her.

"We wanted to wish you and Perdita good luck," Chloe said quietly. "Thank you for everything." Clark only nodded, apparently content to let Chloe speak for them.

Mary gave a wan smile and stood up. "You can call me later on if you need anything more." She gestured at Perdita and the medical bustle. "I'll probably be busy here for awhile longer."

"OK." Chloe advanced, gave her a hug. Clark shook her hand gravely. Mary watched them leave the room, her eyes still awash with tears of joy.

She had an eerie sensation of déjà vu. Clark stepped out of the room, his figure silhouetted by the light coming through the stained glass window at the end of the hallway. His tall form, outlined in a red nimbus, blurred by tears, again reminded her of the Warrior Angel, the leader of the hosts of God, the Captain against the Armies of Evil. Suddenly Mary was seized by a certainty that he had had something to do with Perdita waking up.

"Clark?" Mary called out uncertainly.

He turned back to look at her, his face now visible.

"Thank you," Mary said.

She caught the changing expressions on his face, from _What is she talking about _to _Oh yeah, job well done._ Clark gave her a small smile.

"You're welcome," he said.


	51. Confronting Dr Caselli

**Author's note: dialogue taken from the episode "Justice."**

* * *

Later that day, in the barn loft, Clark and Chloe sat talking. A lot of their previous awkwardness had worn off during their internal adventure, yet a small constraint remained.

"Chloe, you saved me," Clark insisted. "I couldn't have gotten through the maze and past everything without you." He told her about his travels through the labyrinth of Perdita's subconscious.

"That's really interesting, Clark," Chloe said. "I wonder if we all have defenses like that." Clark raised an eyebrow. Chloe continued, "And why you perceived Perdita's defenses in the way you did."

"I don't know, Chloe," Clark responded. "Maybe that tells more about me than her." He shrugged his shoulders. "What were you doing?" Clark asked as he turned to Chloe.

"Well, you might be interested to know that that whole episode only took about five or ten minutes," Chloe said.

Clark raised his eyebrows. "That's interesting," he said slowly. "It seemed like it lasted hours to me."

"And it was a good thing it only took five minutes in real time."

"A good thing?"

"Yeah. Clark, I don't know how Mike and I managed it. I was trying to keep hold of you, and then Mary came back, and we had to make some sort of conversation, at least enough to keep her from getting all suspicious," Chloe said.

"That…must have been difficult," Clark said.

"You can't imagine. It ended up that Mike took over my body, and I took over yours, at least enough to contribute monosyllabic comments, all the time when I was still holding on to the cord and being worried about you!" Chloe said vehemently.

"Do you think Mary thought anything was peculiar?" Clark asked. He'd learned that it was the little things that tended to reveal secrets. How often had he stopped a meteor freak's murderous rampage by focusing on tiny details? "Do you think she knows anything?"

"I can't see how she would," said Chloe, "but she's always been pretty observant. Maybe she picked up on something." Chloe smiled. "But I think that when Perdita asked for her, everything else got driven out of Mary's mind."

"I don't think I've seen anyone so happy," Clark said pensively. "You know, Chloe, it felt really good. I mean, usually I'm using my abilities to kick a$$ on some meteor freaks, and they're unhappy at the end of it all. This time it was different."

"I know what you mean, Clark," she replied. "It was good. It was a different kind of good than getting a hot tip from a source, or getting just the right phrasing on a story…"

"Yeah," Clark interjected. They both sat quietly for a moment, and Clark said, "Mary thanked me. And that felt good too." They looked at each other and smiled.

"You did it, Clark," Chloe said softly. "I knew you could."

Clark smiled uncertainly. "With your help," he said. "Thank you too."

The two sat in companionable silence.

"Clark?" Chloe said hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Um, I was wondering if I could ask you for backup?" Chloe said nervously. "I have to interview Dr. Caselli for this story, and we set up an appointment at the _Planet_this evening, and I'd really like you there…"

"Sure, Chloe," Clark said, inwardly rejoicing. "I'll always help you."

"Just be there, OK?" she asked.

"OK." Clark smiled.

* * *

Chloe stared around the darkened basement of the _Daily Planet. _Unease churned in her gut. Dr. Caselli had called to change their appointment to a later time, and almost everyone had left.

Clark had had to run off to some crisis, but had just called her. Chloe ended their conversation. "No, Dr. Caselli's not here yet, but he's supposed to be here in fifteen minutes." She snapped her phone closed. Turning around, she almost ran into a silent figure.

"Dr. Caselli," Chloe said, trying to conceal her start of dismay. "You're early."

He advanced slowly on her. "You are annoyingly persistent, Ms Sullivan," Caselli said menacingly. "I've already told you that I don't know anything."

Chloe smiled triumphantly. "Don't sell yourself short, doctor," she said. Pulling out a sheaf of papers, she added, "I think you're a very knowledgeable man." She handed him the papers.

Caselli looked down at the information.

Chloe continued. "In the last few months, over a dozen patients have been transferred out of the high-security wing at Belle Reve," she said. "And I believe that's your signature on all the paperwork." She quirked her eyebrow, stared challengingly at the doctor.

Caselli assumed a patently false tone. "Patients are transferred in and out of mental facilities all the time."

Chloe pounced. "Even ones that exhibit unusual abilities?"

Caselli gave her a sharp glance.

Chloe fired questions with machine-gun rapidity. "Where are they transferred to? Is Luthorcorp involved? Did this have anything to do with 33.1?" She fixed him with a gimlet eye.

Unexpectedly, Caselli pulled out an automatic and pointed it at her. The hole in the end of the barrel exuded a frightful fascination.

Chloe gasped and raised her hands. "OK. I'll take that as a 'No comment.'"

Caselli kept the gun pointed at her. "I didn't want any of this," he said, almost sadly. "But it was so much money!"

Caselli extended his hand. Chloe stared at the gun, noticing the stretching of the finger tendons. Time seemed to dilate. She wished she had Clark's super-speed. But she didn't. And because she hadn't allowed for Caselli coming early, she was going to die.

A flash of red, tumbling bodies, a loud bang. Caselli ended up unconscious, thrown through a desk. Chloe took a deep breath, trying to slow down her frantically beating heart.

"Chloe? Are you OK?" Clark asked behind her.

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. "Just in the nick of time, as always." She gave Clark a big smile.

Clark didn't smile back. "It wasn't me," he said, puzzled. "Caselli was already down when I got here."

"What?" Chloe asked, surprised. "But if it wasn't you, then who…" She caught a glimpse, out of the corner of her eye, of a figure in red. When she turned to look at it full-on, the figure had vanished. Chloe turned back to ask Clark if he'd seen it. Clark had vanished too.

"Can't stick around…" she grumbled, not serious. Clark was off doing some super-speeding, obviously. In the meantime, _someone_ had to call the police and get Caselli taken care of.


	52. Back In The Barn

Clark and Chloe met again in the barn loft the next evening. The evening crickets made a reassuring background chirping.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Chloe said jokingly. "How's your Mom doing?"

"She's off in Topeka tonight," Clark said. "Something about some big legislative meeting early tomorrow morning."

"Oh," said Chloe. Momentary awkwardness again, before Chloe said brightly, "You know what?"

"What?" Clark asked.

"Well, you remember that Mike's lawyer got called back to Metropolis early."

"Right when you and Mike were getting abducted, yes," Clark said. "Do you think that Dr. Caselli or Lex was behind that?"

"Not unless they could have arranged James' wife to have premature labor and the birth of twins right at that time," Chloe said. "I think we have to chalk that one up to coincidence."

"Have you heard how they're doing?" Clark asked.

"I actually went to Metropolis General to see them," Chloe said. "They were out of the NICU and into a step-down unit. I ran into James there and he said that the twins have to gain some weight before they can go home. But they're basically healthy."

"Glad to hear that too," Clark said.

"And, in the truth-is-stranger-than-fiction department…"

"What?" Clark asked.

"Well, the women of the Altar Society at St. Michael the Archangel Church here in Smallville knit little tops and booties for premature babies," Chloe began. "And every week, they take them to the NICU at Metropolis General. You know all the Smallville babies with serious problems are transferred to the NICU at Met Gen, right?" she asked Clark.

He nodded.

Chloe continued. "So the Altar Society ladies make the clothes to keep the babies warmer, and to make them look not so deathly ill."

Clark hadn't thought about it, but upon consideration he realized that a premature baby probably would look better clothed than naked and attached to monitors and tubes. And the babies would probably be warmer, too.

"And Mary was spending all that time at Perdita's bedside, and not having much else to do, was knitting like a fiend." Chloe smiled. "So when she took up this week's bundle to Met Gen, who should she meet but James, sitting with his twins in the NICU?"

"Of course," Clark said resignedly.

"So they started talking, and James had read my article –"

"Good article, Chloe, by the way," Clark complimented her.

"—thanks, and he knew it was her that had assured the success of our case with the records, blah blah blah, and he asked her what she was doing."

Clark raised his eyebrows.

Chloe continued. "And Mary told him she had resigned, and they talked some more. James told me later that he was really impressed by Mary's integrity." Chloe smiled. "It ended up that James' firm will be hiring Mary to basically run their Smallville branch."

"Smallville branch?" Clark asked questioningly. "For James' law firm? I thought they were big Metropolis lawyers. What would they want in Smallville?"

"I guess they figure they'll get a lot of business from unjustly imprisoned Belle Reve inmates. Enough to keep an office here for the next few years. Or maybe they'll be suing Luthorcorp," Chloe said. "God knows they can find numerous reasons for that." She smiled. "And Mary knows where all the bodies are buried." The smile left her face. "Figuratively, of course."

"That's interesting," Clark said, almost to himself. "Doing the thing she thought would ruin her life….and it all worked out."

"Things are funny that way," Chloe said pensively. Their eyes met. With the eerie sensitivity to mood they'd shared, ever since they'd shared a body, both knew the other was thinking of perhaps going on to more than friendship.

Then, embarrassed, they changed the subject, discussing the strange events of the last two days. Oliver Queen had returned, this time with three companions – companions with abilities. Chloe now knew them as Bart Allen, aka Impulse; Victor Stone, aka Cyborg; and AC, aka Aquaman. She already knew that Oliver was the Green Arrow, but he hadn't known that she knew.

Oliver had set up a mission to destroy a Luthorcorp 33.1 facility. The mission had assumed a greater urgency once Bart Allen was captured by Lex Luthor and held prisoner in the facility. Clark, going to rescue Bart, had run afoul of refined meteor rock, and had almost died before the Green Arrow rescued him.

The five men had walked away from the facility, leaving it a flaming ruin. Bart and Clark were safe, and all Luthorcorp employees had been evacuated before destroying the plant.

Nevertheless, Clark felt disturbed about what he'd done. He turned to Chloe to talk about it. The talk of 33.1 naturally brought Lex to the conversation, and Clark thought sadly of how Lex, once a friend, had turned into an amoral, ruthless user. And talking of Lex inevitably, despite Clark's best efforts, brought Lana into the conversation.

"But it's so frustrating, Chloe!" Clark burst out. "We know how bad Lex really is, and either we can't tell her or she won't believe us!"

"Like how Lex is behind Level 33.1? And imprisoning people?" Chloe said sardonically.

Clark almost shouted. "That guy with the electromagnetic-frequency-shifting meteor power actually came and took Lex hostage, and Lana didn't believe it! Why would anyone do that unless they had reason?"

"Whoa, Clark, calm down." Clark had the decency to look abashed. Chloe continued. "Well, it would have helped if I could have shown her the information I lifted off Lex's hard drive, but Lionel came around and vaporized the files before I could." Chloe looked pensive. "I think I figured out how he did that, and I think I have a defense against that now…"

"And I saw it with my own eyes! Bart Allen was being tortured!" Clark stood up, paced in his agitation. "Forced to run or be electrocuted!"

"But you saw it in the midst of an illegal rescue mission that ended up with the plant exploding. Not to mention your companions." A sardonic tone tinged Chloe's voice again.

"Right. I can't blow their covers. And I can't tell anyone – except you, of course – that I was there. It's probably a felony or something." Clark sounded glum.

"It wasn't you that blew up the plant! It was our jolly green friend!" Chloe said, obliquely referring to Oliver Queen, a.k.a. The Green Arrow.

"But I went along with it. So I'm probably an accessory or something." Clark seemed pensive. "Chloe, do you think that was a terrorist act?"

"You know, Clark, I've been worried a bit about that too." Chloe sounded serious too. "I guess I would feel better if I knew that the plant was just devoted to catching meteor freaks – excuse me,_people with abilities_. And keeping them prisoner, and using them."

"Well, was it?" Clark demanded.

"I_think_ so." Chloe nibbled on her lip; Clark knew it as a sign that she wasn't totally sure. "They did have that one meteor rock-processing area—"

"That I blundered into", Clark said sheepishly.

"You thought it was where they were keeping Bart!" Chloe remonstrated. "I for one am glad to know you'll back up your friends." He glanced at her; she gave a tiny smile and said, "Since you've saved me so many times."

"And you've reciprocated", Clark said softly.

"It all happened so fast, that evening", Chloe said. "You ran off to get Bart, and I had to go and meet the Justice Bros. –"

"That's what you call them?" Clark said, chuckling.

"Yeah. I heard it somewhere, and it just stuck with me." Chloe laughed too. "Anyway, before I knew it, I was in front of the Mission Control Board, and giving updates right and left. And then, you guys were so fast…"

"I was glad you were there to talk us through it", Clark said, his voice sincere.

Chloe frowned. "Since then, I've had more time. I studied the plans for the facility. Based on the information I have, it does look like that facility was devoted solely to meteor rock acquisition and processing. And dealing with special guests."

"Otherwise known as prisoners."

"Well, there certainly were a lot of "secure rooms" in the plans. And the labs had a lot of what one would euphemistically call "security features."

"Security features?" Clark asked.

"They were big on the restraints." Chloe stared into nothing, mentally reviewing the plans. "And there were a lot of blast doors, and polycarbonate windows, and rooms where you needed telepresence or waldos to handle things – where you could do thing without going into the rooms. All the glass was unbreakable. There was quite a sophisticated lockdown and intruder control system. It's a good thing our bionic friend was there to handle that."

"So you're saying that most of the inhabitants probably weren't there voluntarily?"

"If they ever had inhabitants there at all, yeah." Chloe nibbled on her lip again. "We don't know if they had people there and they moved them out when they were trying to trap Bart, or if there never were people there at all."

"Oh, given the notorious Luthorcorp efficiency, I'm sure they wouldn't build them and let them be empty. That would be wasteful." Clark smiled bitterly. "And then they wouldn't be amortizing their investment."

"So, Clark, the way I see it is that you and the Justice Bros. destroyed an illegal prison. I'm sure those people there were thrown in without benefit of a jury trial." Chloe thought about raising her voice in outrage, then decided not to – Clark knew how she felt. "Plus the meteor rock processing – that's legal, but only because no governmental authority really believes all the stuff that kryptonite can do to people. I'm sure Luthorcorp was going to use it to infect more people and give them more bodies for their rooms in the basement." She lifted her feet up, put them on the couch. "My take is that you were justified in destroying the plant."

Clark gave a tiny sigh. "I'm kind of glad to hear you say that." He shot her a glance. "I came to the same conclusion. But I can't deny that it makes me a little queasy, causing that kind of destruction." He smiled. "I'm not an end-justifies-the-means kind of guy."

"You know, Clark…" Chloe trailed off. He looked at her questioningly. "I'm kind of glad that you're having doubts."

"Why?"

"Because of who you are…" she gestured obliquely at him. "With everything that you can do, it would be scary if you were convinced that you knew the one right way, and everybody else had to get in line."

Clark grimaced, thinking about that. "I told you about the message I got in sophomore year—"

"From Jor-El?" Chloe knew him well enough to guess.

"Yes. The one where it said, 'Rule them well.'" Clark shivered. "I did a lot of thinking about that. I don't want to be a conqueror." He looked at Chloe; she raised her eyebrows.

Her voice took on a teasing tone. "If you were – think of all the paperwork. Plus, this barn would be nowhere big enough for your secret lair and all your henchmen. Plus your Imperial Stormtroopers."

Clark couldn't help smiling at that. Then, more seriously, he said, "So now, I want to be sure to think hard when I do…um, big stuff…like that." He reached over, clasped her hand in his. "I count on you keeping me on the straight and narrow, Chloe."

He could tell that Chloe was flattered, just a bit. "Clark, it's your own good sense that'll keep you straight", she said dismissively. Nevertheless, she gave him a bright smile. Their eyes met again. Clark leaned toward her. Would she be willing to kiss him this time? In fact, could he get up the courage to kiss her? They leaned toward each other. Tension filled the air.

"Hey!" A cheerful greeting from below broke the moment. Clark and Chloe flinched in startlement. They leaned away, each with a rueful smile. The moment was broken. Clark looked down – Bart Allen. _Does he have some sort of alarm that lets him know when I want to kiss Chloe?_

Chloe preceded Clark as they descended to the barn floor. Bart walked in, followed by AC and Victor. They chatted for a moment before Oliver came in. It didn't take long to turn the talk to what they were all thinking of.

Victor mentioned that he had hacked the Luthorcorp mainframe and gotten information about 33.1.

Soberly, Oliver said, "Luthorcorp is starting up divisions of 33.1 all across the globe. Wherever there's evidence of people with abilities, there'll be laboratories to do experiments on them."

Chloe felt Clark shudder. He'd actually been a lab rat one time himself, tricked by Lionel Luthor into entering the Summerholt Facility. There he'd been trapped and immersed in a kryptonite bath, almost killing him. Clark had told her that he still had nightmares about it on occasion – not just the physical agony, but the mental desperation, the realization of being helpless, bound, a toy in the hands of those who saw him only as an experimental animal.

"We can't let that happen," Clark said firmly. Chloe silently agreed.

"We won't," Oliver replied quietly. "Clark, this isn't the end. This is only the beginning." The two men shook hands in mutual respect.

Oliver turned to look at his team – outwardly ordinary, but gifted with superhuman abilities. "Come on, boys, let's go save the world." Oliver, Bart, AC, and Victor walked out, straight and tall.

Chloe stared at their retreating backs. "You know, you have some pretty amazing friends, Clark Kent."

"Yeah, I do." Clark smiled, stared directly at Chloe. Silence for a moment as he kept on looking.

"What?" Chloe asked.

"You're the most amazing."

**Author's note: Dialogue and actions taken from the episode "Justice." **


	53. A Beautiful Friendship

Chloe stared at their retreating backs. "You know, you have some pretty amazing friends, Clark Kent."

"Yeah, I do." Clark smiled, stared directly at Chloe. Silence for a moment as he kept on looking.

"What?" Chloe asked.

"You're the most amazing."

Chloe smiled back uncertainly. The past two days had made her think. They were friends again, easy in conversation again. He'd saved her, and she'd saved him. She'd almost lost Clark to kryptonite poisoning. He'd confessed his fears to her, discussed his ethical dilemmas. She knew him better than anyone. And he knew her better than anyone.

The last few days had taught her, again, how fragile life was, and how it could change, or be lost, in an instant.

Chloe took a deep breath. "Clark," she said. "Did you mean what you said about Lana?"

He shot her a questioning look. "If you mean, have my feelings changed for her, then yes," Clark said.

Chloe remained silent, prompting Clark.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about this in the past few days," Clark started slowly. "I've come to the conclusion that I've been overlooking what's right under my eyes." He smiled ruefully. "But then I've never been the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"Uh-huh," Chloe made a vague noise of agreement.

Clark took it as a sign to continue. "Chloe, I realize now that Lana would never accept me as I am." He turned to look her in the eyes. "She's always been afraid of meteor powers and people with meteor powers –"

"Not too surprising when you realize how many of them have attacked her," interjected Chloe.

"Good point," admitted Clark. "But she's said to both of us, at different times, that she was scared of someone who was different. You remember Cyrus?"

"The kid who thought he was from another planet, and built the signal tower to contact his parents? The kid who could heal?" Chloe asked curiously.

"Yeah. And, I couldn't miss the opportunity to ask Lana, what if Cyrus really had been an alien?" Clark shuffled, looked down at his feet. "And she said, well, she'd never look at him the same way."

"I'm guessing that kind of put the kibosh on you telling her your secret at that time," Chloe said.

"Right," Clark said. "And so many times, I would get up the courage to tell Lana, but then something would happen, and she'd see someone using their meteor power, and she'd make it known, somehow, that she didn't want to be around someone who was different."

"I'm sorry, Clark," Chloe said softly.

"It's like my secret is a black hole," Clark went on passionately. "And Lana, and other people, like Lex, are orbiting the Schwarzchild radius. And things like trust, and openness, and true friendship, fall into the black hole and are never seen again."

"Extra points again for the astronomy analogy," Chloe said admiringly. "But I found out your secret."

"And that was a miracle. You dove into the black hole, and it turned into a wormhole, and you came out the other side in a totally different place."

"That's for sure," Chloe muttered.

"And, Chloe, it was such a relief to me when you found out," Clark said, taking her by the arms and staring at her intently. "I didn't have to conceal, and lie, and tell secrets, and make up lame excuses. You accepted me, and I could just be who I was. Who I am." Clark let her go, put his hands at his sides, his body almost shaking with the intensity of his emotion.

"You know," Chloe said slowly, "Lex is kind of a black hole too."

"What?" Clark said, momentarily startled.

"Everyone who's been around him gets sucked into his orbit, too," Chloe said. "And things peel off and fall into his gravitational anomaly. Except he's worse than your black hole – you know, your secret." She started talking faster. "Look at us. He's stolen away my trust, he's tried to destroy Lana's friendship with me. He's made me suspicious and bitter and cynical." Chloe began pacing. "And look at you, Clark."

"What?"

"You were friends with Lex once."

"I was," Clark admitted.

"And he was the one, it was his actions, that broke the friendship. Your friendship, your trust in him, his sense of morality and proportion, they got sucked down into Lex's black hole. And they're not coming back." She began breathing more quickly. "You know, Clark," Chloe continued, "taking this analogy further, you could say that those things have been compressed down into a micro-point of heavy matter. They weigh on your soul, they affect you, but they can't be, um, un-compressed to be back the way they were."

Clark furrowed his brow. "What worries me is that we're all in Lex's orbit. Lana especially, she's so close to him right now. I can't let her spiral down…"

"You know, Clark," Chloe said, "to torture this analogy even further, maybe we could say that you're the equivalent mass black hole. And it's you that has the weight, or the mass, or whatever - the equal strength needed to pull us away from Lex's orbit and save us from destruction."

Clark looked surprised.

Chloe continued. "I mean, your powers are different. You don't have billions of dollars. But you do have… what you are. And maybe that balances out Lex's money." She laughed bitterly. "Lana and I certainly don't have it. We're small planets, orbiting the big gravitational masses. And whichever way we go, whether it's down to crushing destruction with Lex, or maybe transformation with you…" She stopped. "Where am I going with this anyway?"

Clark smiled. "I don't know. But it sounded good."

"What are you really worried about, Clark?" Chloe asked softly.

He sighed, looked her in the eye. "Three major things, Chloe. I know you've heard this all before." Clark looked down momentarily. "The first thing is fear of exposure."

"Obviously. You don't want to end up in that Area 51 laboratory," Chloe agreed. Then, with an impish smile, she added, "Not that I wouldn't visit you just so I could see the Yeti and the chupacabra too."

Clark smiled a little bit too, but not much. Chloe kicked herself for forgetting he had actually been trapped and experimented on once.

"What's the second thing?" Chloe asked.

"The second thing is that I'm afraid for you."

_"For_me?"

"Right. Telling someone my secret is a dangerous business. Look at all the people who've found out, or I've told, over the years. How many of them are still alive?"

Chloe pondered that. "Well, now that you mention it, not many." She frowned. "Of course, a lot of them were meteor-infected and homicidal." Clark would have missed her slight tremble had it not been for his acute senses. "When the meteor freaks go bad, I can't blame you for stopping them." Her tremble stopped. "You've saved my life numerous times, so…." Chloe trailed off. Then, in a deliberately cheerful voice, she said, "You told Pete, didn't you?"

"And look how well that worked out," Clark said. "He got tortured for information and he had to move away for his own safety."

"Your mom is doing OK."

"Mostly. Someone tried to blackmail her last year with a DVD of security footage of me using my abilities. She's vulnerable. And don't forget my dad," Clark said bitterly. "My father, who lost years off his life because of me."

Chloe nodded soberly. "Lionel Luthor knows. And he seems to be doing OK."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "You can't tell me that his life hasn't changed dramatically. Being in a coma for three months and getting possessed by the spirit of my biological father…"

"Well, there is that." Chloe sat down, discouraged. "You know, Clark, I didn't really realize it till now. Things do tend to, um, happen around you."

Clark leaned over and said passionately, "That's why I'm so worried about you, Chloe. Every day I wonder if someone will hurt you because of me. Does somebody know something? Are you a pawn in their game? I want you to be safe, Chloe. And I'm afraid that if you stay around me, you won't be."

"Clark, I could get hit by a car crossing the street tomorrow," Chloe said tartly. "Or a rabid squirrel could bite me." She snorted. "You can't keep me in a plastic bubble. Face it. Living is dangerous and it has a 100 mortality rate." Then, more gently, she said, "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment."

They sat silently for a moment, then Chloe said, "What's the third thing?"

Clark looked away, embarrassed. "Um, well, I'm afraid. Afraid about me."

"About you?" Chloe asked.

"What if I told Lana and she got freaked out? What if I repulsed her?" Clark stood up, began pacing. "That's one reason I haven't told her, aside from the danger. When I told Pete my secret, Chloe, he looked at me so….so…." Clark sighed. "It was one of the worst looks I've ever gotten in my life."

Chloe nodded at the remembered pain in Clark's voice.

"I don't know what I'd do if Lana looked at me like that," Clark said. "But I think she would."

Chloe nodded again.

"That's why….You've never given me the "alien" look, or the "freak" look, Chloe," Clark said fiercely. "You don't show that you know I'm not human."

Chloe inhaled sharply. "Clark, you're more human than half my co-workers. And definitely more human than ninety percent of your mom's co-legislators." She gave him a tiny slap. "You're fixated on species. But so much of being human is how you act. The choices you make. What you do, not your DNA."

Chloe looked away. Clark barely heard her mutter, "At least, that's what I'm telling myself now that I'm a meteor freak. Am I human anymore?"

"It's what you do, Chloe, how you act," Clark parroted the words she'd just said to him.

"Right. That's my story and I'm sticking to it." They shared a momentary glance. Clark raised an eyebrow and they both smiled.

"Speaking of giving you _looks_, I reserve the right to continue giving you the "God, are you dumb" and the "_What _were you thinking?" looks," Chloe said.

"I'll probably deserve them," Clark said. "God knows I've made my share of mistakes. Chloe, you're definitely the brains of this outfit."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Clark," Chloe said. Then, more soberly, she added, "I don't know what to say. You've got some compelling reasons to keep your secret."

"That's why I've decided not to tell Lana," Clark said quietly. "I've come to accept that it would never work."

"I've been urging you to come out of the closet – metaphorically speaking – for years now. And you're going to stay in?" Chloe demanded.

"Chloe, the only reason I would consider telling Lana is if we were going to be together. After everything that's happened this year, her true personality has come out. I've come to realize that she's not the one for me." Clark stared intently at Chloe. "You are."

She looked away. She'd wanted to hear him say this for years. Now he had, and now she was embarrassed.

"Are you sure, Clark?" Chloe asked him. She'd been hurt too many times before. Now, right now, he sounded good, but would it last?

"I'm sure, Chloe," he said earnestly. Somehow they'd made their way up to the loft again, and he inched closer to her on the old couch. "Like I said before, I'll always have feelings for Lana, but I've come to realize that she and I would be wrong together." He gave Chloe a tentative smile. "It's you. You're the one. It took me a long time to realize it but I finally have." She could sense his anxiety, the effort it took for him to admit things out loud.

Chloe gave a deep sigh. Their psychic connection, strengthened by their shared experiences, was fading slowly. But enough of it remained that Chloe could feel Clark's sincerity. He was telling the truth.

He continued. "Look at the whole thing with Mike."

"What?" Chloe asked.

"He couldn't bond with me. He couldn't get me out of my body. He could only do it with your help. And you're the only one who could connect to me. No one else could."

Chloe looked down at the ground, taken aback.

Clark said, "It's you, Chloe. You're the one who guided me through, the one who helps me fit in this world, makes me use my abilities the right way." He put out a hand to her. "We should be together." Hope rang in his voice.

She didn't move away as Clark sat nearer to her. Clark's voice was soft as he said, "When I was in the maze – when I was going into the maze – it was you. Even thought you were mad at me, you still gave me an incredible gift – your soul. You let me hang on." Clark swallowed as their eyes met. "You guided and guarded me. I could feel it. You wouldn't let me get lost. You have the true steel core." Clark said quietly, "I couldn't have done it without you."

Chloe sat, stunned, for a moment, then took his hand in hers. "Clark…um…I don't know what to say." She shuffled her feet nervously. "Yeah, I was mad at first – at Kal, not at you." She laughed nervously. "And, I shouldn't say this…you'll be upset…"

"What?" Clark asked.

"I've always had some…reservations about your powers, Clark. You can do so much. And if you were human, you'd misuse them." She smiled bitterly. "That's just how humans are."

Clark withdrew just a bit. Chloe took a tighter grip on his hand.

"It took touching your soul – _being_you – for me to truly know what kind of a man you are." She squeezed his hand. "The kind of man who wouldn't misuse his power. The kind of man with a decent core, a man who will stand up for the right thing." Chloe stared him straight in the eye. "A man who isn't human, who has his weaknesses, yes, but they're not _human_ weaknesses. Someone who can get off the tired old human merry-go-round and be something, someone, new. A man I couldn't be afraid of, now that I know what he is. A good man. Inside, where it counts."

Clark had a very peculiar expression on his face.

Chloe continued. "And a man, who I _know,_now - from being with him, from _being_ him - who I can trust. Who I care about. And who cares about me."

She trembled. It was hard to overcome six years of insecurity and hiding. Thank God that Clark had moved himself closer to her, that she didn't need to make the first move. _Carpe diem and all that, _she thought. Chloe took a deep breath.

She reached up and pulled his head down to hers. Her lips welcomed his in a long kiss. Clark's eyes widened in surprise before sheer sensation made his lids drop in heavy languor.

"I'm thinking that Kal gave up the red kryptonite, but I never performed my end of the deal," Chloe said huskily, separating herself from Clark. _God, he's a good kisser. _Little tingles of sensation still swirled in her body.

Clark got a weird look on his face – momentary lust, and sheer wanting, chased away by what Chloe was coming to recognize as his stern "do the right thing" mask.

"Chloe, you know I'm not going to hold you to that," Clark said softly. "Your deal was with Kal, not with me. And besides, he extorted the agreement from you." He took on a firmer tone. "So you don't have to."

Chloe raised her eyebrows. Clark's eyes, slipping away from her face, checking out her figure, told Chloe that he most definitely _wanted_ her to hold up her end of the deal. But he wouldn't come out and say that. Chloe knew him now - Clark was all about avoiding coercion. Chloe respected and admired him for that. Too bad Kal wasn't as good about avoiding misuse of his powers.

"Clark, you're a good guy," Chloe said. "I know you'd let me off." She said quietly, "But maybe I'm finally listening to everything you just said to me." A pause, then Chloe smiled provocatively. "But what if I want to honor our deal?"

"Want to? Um…" She'd actually made Clark Kent speechless. Speechless, but apparently very interested.

"I don't like unkept promises, Clark," Chloe said. "And you always keep yours. So now I have to keep mine."

Clark looked like she'd hit him in the face with a brick.

Chloe leaned over and snuggled into him, mouth poised for another kiss. "The first one's a mulligan, Clark. You've got two more kisses in our deal…."

Clark gave a giant smile. He took a deep breath. "Are you sure?" he asked her one last time.

"I'm sure," Chloe said firmly. "You've got two kisses to make me ask for more." She gave him a challenging gaze. "I don't think you can do it."

He smiled back knowingly, sheer happiness on his face. "Oh, I think I can," Clark said, holding her in his arms. A quick blur, a tiny breeze, and they were in his bedroom, sitting on the bed. He pulled her down on the bed beside him, laughingly. "I think I can."

FINIS


End file.
